


Holidate

by lydslibrary



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Based off the movie Holidate, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Holidays, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Smut, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 48,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28496808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydslibrary/pseuds/lydslibrary
Summary: Y/N and Dean have both had bad luck with relationships (and the recent holidays). When they meet one another at the mall, Dean gets an idea that could potentially fix their problems.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader
Comments: 26
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Started writing this for a holiday fic exchange and I got a little carried away! Based entirely off the movie "Holidate", which I highly recommend if you're into all the Hallmark-y stuff. Enjoy!

_**Thanksgiving Day** _

**Y/N’S POV**

You watched in disinterest as your brother got down on one knee and proposed to his girlfriend (of six months) in your family’s living room. Not that you weren’t happy for him, finding love or whatever, but this just meant the next few holidays were going to be absolute hell for you. Everyone in your family was now pretty much married, engaged, or dating. Everyone except you, which sucked extra hard because you were a girl _and_ you were the oldest, which just meant a constant stream of questions like, “Y/N, when are you getting married?” or “Y/N, have you tried this dating app?” or “Y/N, have you found ‘the one’ yet?”. You stifled a scoff. _“The one”. What a fucking joke._ You tried your best to plaster on a fake smile and pretend to be happy for your little brother, although, besides being bitter about your own mess of a love life, he had only known the girl six months and you didn’t think that it was a good idea all-around. And Thanksgiving? Why’d he had to do it at Thanksgiving? You couldn’t name a more un-romantic holiday.

“Congrats, you’ve beat me to it,” you smiled, as you gave your brother a hug. He just laughed and hugged the next person down the line of family members waiting to congratulate him. You rolled your eyes at the unnecessary commotion and made your way into the kitchen to check on the turkey. At least that was the one good thing left about this holiday: the food.

“So, Y/N,” your aunt began once everyone was sat at the table, about halfway through the meal, “do you have a special someone?”

 _Dear God, I’d going to murder someone before the night is over_ , you thought to yourself before putting on what was probably the 50th fake smile of the night and replying, “I don’t.” Your aunt looked at you with sympathy and you _hated_ it. As if you needed sympathy for not having a boyfriend. As if you were just a miserable little hag without a man at your side. It made you want to barf, but you just settled for playing with the mashed potatoes on your plate.

**_Christmas Day_ **

**DEAN’S POV**

“You’re sure they know I’m coming? This is our second date, I feel like it’s kinda comin’ on a little strong,” Dean said, as he followed his date up the driveway of her house. He had no clue what he was doing there; he had only been on one other date with this girl and it wasn’t even all that good. But it was Christmas, and his brother was off with his girlfriend somewhere, and he was going to be alone otherwise. So, when Ella invited him over for Christmas dinner, he thought, “why not?”. Now, he was second guessing his decision and praying that they weren’t expecting him to have brought any gifts. Again, this was the second date. He barely knew the girl.

“Yes, and they’re so excited to meet you! I’m so glad you could make it!” Ella chirped, as she rang the doorbell.

 _Jesus Christ, I’m going to kill myself_ , Dean thought to himself as Ella’s overly-excited tone rang in his ears. She hadn’t even acknowledged his whole “coming on strong” statement, and that’s when he realized that the chances of this night ending well were slim to none. After two dates, she was bringing him home to meet the parents. Why did he ever agree to this? What the hell was he thinking?

“El-bell!” Ella’s mother exclaimed as the front door opened, pulling her into a tight hug. Dean held back his desire to physically cringe at the Christmas sweater her mom was wearing, only to see that her dad was wearing a matching one as the door opened wider. Now he wanted to throw up. God, they were _those_ people. “And you must be Dean!” Ella’s mom said with a smile as she ushered Dean over the threshold and into the house, pulling him into a tight hug. Yeah, there was no escaping this hell now.

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean replied, trying his best to make his smile look genuine.

“I’m Angie, this is Bill,” Ella’s mom beamed, pointing to her husband who offered his hand to Dean with an oddly cheery smile on his face. Dean shook it and nodded a ‘hello’. “We’re so excited to finally meet you, Dean. Ella’s just told us oodles about you!”

“Oh, has she? This is only our second date,” Dean chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head as he glanced over at Ella with a curious look on his face.

“Oh, well, yes, but… when you know you know,” Angie beamed, clearly totally oblivious to Dean’s discomfort. _Son of a bitch. I’ve found the fucking loony bin_ , Dean thought to himself. At least he had figured out that Ella wasn’t the one on the second date, and not a year in. “C’mon, Bill is going to finish up on the dinner and I can show you El’s baby pictures!”

 _Oh, God, no. Please don’t_ , is what Dean wanted to say. But he settled on, “can’t wait!”, as he followed Angie into to the living room and was sat in between her and her daughter in no time, a photo album in his lap. It was going to be a long fucking night.

**_Someday Between Christmas and New Year’s Eve_ **

**Y/N’S POV**

You sighed as you made your way through the crowded mall. You were shopping for a dress for some stupid New Year’s Eve party that you had been invited to, but you weren’t even sure that you were going to go yet. For one, you didn’t have a date, and you didn’t particularly want to be surrounded by kissing couples when the clock struck 12. Secondly, you’ve had it up to your ears with holidays. As if Thanksgiving wasn’t bad enough, Christmas was even _worse_. Your family insisted on wearing matching Christmas sweaters – barf – and your mother tried to set you up with the next-door neighbor who had just moved in – double barf.

“But Y/N, he’s a _doctor_ ,” your mom’s voice echoed in your head.

“But mom, _I don’t care_ ,” you had replied.

You turned the corner, spotted the pretzel stand, and began making your way towards it. You needed a snack to get your mind off of how irritated you were with the holidays, because Lord knows if you didn’t show up at that damn New Year’s Eve party, the line of questioning about your love life would extend to be not only from your family, but from your friends as well.

“Hi, can I just get one cinnamon-sugar pretzel please. And an iced coffee,” you asked the woman working at the pretzel stand, who looked like she absolutely hated her job as she nodded and began to fill your order. You understood her mood. If you worked at a pretzel stand in the middle of the mall in the middle of the holiday season, you’d hate your life too. More than you already did. You thanked the woman as she handed you your order and offered her a smile, to which she did not return, not that you minded. You respected her honesty. You spun around on your heels to leave, pretzel in one hand and iced coffee in another, when it happened. You know, that thing that happens in every cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie ever. Because, admittedly, you weren’t exactly watching where you were going, you collided with a random stranger’s chest, iced coffee went everywhere, soaking through your shirt and his, your pretzel fell to the floor, and the whole mall seemed to stop in their tracks for a split second to watch the shit show happen. “Oh my God, I am so sorry,” you blurted out, looking at his coffee-soaked tee.

“Son of a bitch,” he mumbled as he looked down at his shirt. “Don’t worry about it, it happens,” he said, although you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was irritated. Who wouldn’t be? You looked from his shirt to his face, and the air almost left your lungs as you laid your eyes on him. Undoubtedly, he was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. This would happen to you. Just your luck.

“No, no, let me buy you a new shirt or something,” you offered, picking your pretzel up off the ground and throwing it in the nearest trashcan.

“ _Me_ a new shirt? I think you might want to take care of your shirt first,” he smirked. Your eyes went wide when you realized what he was referring to. You were wearing a light blue shirt, and since it was just the mall, you decided to forego the bra today. Your hands instantly folded across your chest to keep a shred of your dignity. The man chuckled. “Here,” he said, shrugging off his plaid over shirt and handing it to you. Somehow, the coffee had avoided most of the button-down and concentrated on his t-shirt underneath.

You smiled sheepishly and took the plaid from him, quickly putting it on and buttoning it up. “Thanks,” you replied, offering your hand out to him. “Um, I’m Y/N.” He shook it firmly.

“Dean,” he smiled, before glancing over to the pretzel stand and announcing that he was going to get some napkins to clean up the coffee from the floor. You watched him as he asked the woman who hated her life for some napkins and she handed them to him begrudgingly before going back to the register. You and Dean fell to your knees and began sopping up the coffee with the pile of napkins to the best of your ability. After about five trips from each of you to the nearby trashcan to dispose of the soggy napkins, the floor may have been sticky with coffee residue, but it wasn’t a slipping hazard anymore.

“Thanks, you didn’t have to help. That was my bad,” you said shyly, hugging yourself out of embarrassment from the whole situation.

“No, no, it’s fine. Honestly, I shouldn’t have been surprised that it happened to me considering how my holiday season’s been goin’,” Dean chuckled as you both started to make your way away from the scene of the mess. You were heading towards the nearest clothing store so you could buy Dean a new shirt, but you had a feeling he’d protest so you kept the conversation going so he wouldn’t notice where the two of you were headed.

“You too, huh?” You laughed breathily, flashbacks of your own holidays playing through your head.

“You mean to tell me I’m not the only one who had a shit Christmas?” He asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Shit Christmas, shit Thanksgiving, and I’ll probably have a shit New Year’s, too,” you sighed, turning into the nearest men’s clothing store. Dean realized what you were up to.

“You’re not thinking of buying me another shirt, are you? Honestly, I’m fine. The coffee’s almost dry now anyway and I can just wear that one once you buy yourself a new shirt,” he stated, pointing to his flannel that you were still wearing.

“I feel bad! That shirt is ruined, look at the coffee stain!” You exclaimed with a laugh, pointing at his gray tee.

“This thing? Nah, I got about 15 of them back home. C’mon, let’s find _you_ a shirt so I can get my flannel back and get the hell outta here before there’s another accident,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes in protest and made your way back out of the store. “So, why the shit holiday season?” He questioned, continuing the conversation as the two of you started walking again.

“Ugh, where do I start? On Thanksgiving my little brother proposed to his girlfriend of six months –”

“Who proposes on Thanksgiving? That’s like, the _least_ romantic holiday,” Dean interjected.

“I know! That’s what I said! It just sucks because now I’m the only single person in my family, and being a girl, and being the oldest, it’s like… everyone expects me to be married and have kids by now. So, I’m getting bombarded with questions about whether or not I have a boyfriend at every holiday and it makes me want to rip my hair out. And then on Christmas, as if Thanksgiving wasn’t bad enough, my mother invited her new next-door neighbor over for Christmas dinner so she could try and set me up with him!” You exclaimed.

“Oh, no, that’s rough,” Dean chuckled. “Did you like him?”

“Even if I had, I would never go on a date with someone that my own _mother_ set me up with. I mean, she’s lost it, she wants grandbabies so damn bad. What about you? What made your Christmas so rough?”

“Oh, God. I decided to go over to this girl’s parent’s house for Christmas dinner… it was our second date,” he said nervously, as if you were about to judge him for his actions.

You laughed. “Why would you ever say yes to that?”

“I didn’t want to be alone on Christmas! But after being shown the third baby photo album of hers and then being forced into wearing a matching sweater, I was regretting the decision, trust me.”

“Oh, God. They sound –”

“Crazy? Yeah, it was fuckin’ freaky,” Dean said with a shiver as he recalled the memory. “So, what are your plans for New Year’s then?”

“I got invited to this party at this club but Lord knows I’m not going to find a date by then. So, it’s like, do I want to spend New Year’s alone at home or do I want to spend it alone at a club? That’s why I came here in the first place; to find a dress,” you explained.

Dean nodded as he listened. “Well, I don’t have any plans for New Years,” he hinted. You cringed. It’s not that you weren’t attracted to him, it’s that you genuinely just… weren’t a relationship person. And as much as you would love to have a New Year’s kiss, you wanted to have a New Year’s kiss with no strings attached, and something told you that Dean wanted the strings. You finally reached your favorite clothing store and stopped to face Dean before entering.

“Look, I appreciate the offer but I just really can’t start a whole relationship thing right now and –”

“Woah, woah. I never said anything about a relationship. I’m not a relationship guy myself. I just… I was thinking, because I need a date to this work thing I have going on on Valentine’s Day, if I go to this New Year’s party with you… would you maybe consider returning the favor for me?” He asked hopefully.

“Like a holiday date?” You questioned as you narrowed your eyes at him skeptically.

“Yeah, yeah exactly! Like… like a holi _date_ ,” he smiled, clearly quite proud of his pun.

“I was considering it until the pun,” you joked. You had to admit, it was a pretty good idea. It took the stress of finding a date for the holidays, and he wasn’t the worst person to be around. “Fine, fine, I’m in,” you agreed, before making your way into the store.

_**New Year's Eve** _

You and Dean had exchanged numbers later that day at the mall, after you had given him his flannel back and thanked him for helping you keep some of your dignity. You hadn’t heard from him until yesterday, when he texted you asking if you wanted him to pick you up. You took him up on the offer, figuring that it would do you some good to save a little gas money. Plus, this was technically a date. A non-romantic date, but a date nonetheless. You took one last look at yourself in the mirror, straightening out your sparkly black skin tight dress that you had actually picked out at the mall that day, after you said your goodbyes to Dean. The dress stopped about mid-thigh and showed off your cleavage quite nicely. You felt good in it. Hot. Sexy, even. You were ready for a night out to ring in the New Year with friends who wouldn’t be bothering you with silly questions about your love life, because for all intents and purposes, tonight, you actually had one. There was a knock at your door and you yelled, “Coming!”, as you rushed out of your room, trying to simultaneously put your heels on as you did so. You unlocked the door and opened it, one shoe on while the other was still dangling in your hand.

“Woah, you look… hot,” Dean stated simply, eyeing you up and down while you steadied yourself on the nearby wall and put your other heel on.

“Thank you, you don’t look so bad yourself. You can, uh, you can come in. I gotta grab my purse and make sure all the lights are off,” you smiled, as Dean stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind him.

“Nice place,” you heard him announce as you ran off back to your room to grab your purse.

“Thanks, it’s not much but it’s home,” you replied loudly, spinning in slow circles trying to figure out where you had left your purse. You finally spotted it on a chair under the clothes you were wearing before you had changed into your current outfit. You headed out of your room, turning the light off on the way out. “Alright, I’m good. Let’s go get drunk,” you smiled, as the two of you headed out the door.

The club was loud and crowded; just about what’d you’d expect, it being New Year’s and all. You found your friends and their dates rather quickly, despite the noise, the bad lighting, and the number of people. You introduced Dean as your date for the night, and judging by the looks on their faces, you knew you’d be getting questions about him later. However, it wouldn’t be the annoying question of, “Do you have a man, yet?”, it’d be the slightly less annoying question of, “So, Dean, huh?”, which you were more than fine with. Honestly, you quite liked talking about Dean. He was a mystery to you, and you liked it that way. Much less of a chance of you falling for him.

“Do you want a drink!?” Dean leaned over to yell in your ear over the blaring music.

You nodded. “Yeah, anything with whiskey in it, I’ll drink!” You replied back to him, just as loud. He smiled and gave you a nod before disappearing to the bar.

The night was moving quickly, and after your fourth drink, you were really having a good time. Dean had gotten a few drinks in him as well, and around 11:00 he had asked you to dance. The music was God awful. Just some new age, pop techno crap. It sounded like noise more than it did music, but neither of you cared. You had your arms around Dean’s neck, and he had one hand on your hip, the other holding a beer, while the both of you swayed to the noise-music. Dean took a swig of his drink and then leaned over to yell something in your ear again.

“I feel like I can say this, because I’m not actually trying to impress you, but I just thought you should know that your boobs look fucking amazing tonight!” He shouted, and you giggled.

“Thank you!” You replied, quite enjoying the open line of communication between the two of you, considering that you didn’t have to be cordial with one another because this wasn’t meant to be an actual, real, romantic date. “Did you see Caroline’s though? She looks so good in that dress, doesn’t she!?” You asked, nodding over to your friend who you had introduced to Dean earlier, who was drunkenly dancing with her date. Dean nodded in agreement as he glanced in her direction.

“Yeah, she does. You didn’t tell me you had so many hot friends!” he said in a joking manner, although you wouldn’t have minded if he wasn’t joking. You laughed.

“Yeah, we’re a good-looking bunch!”

“You’re the hottest one, though!”

You blushed. “You think so!?”

“Fuck, yeah! I mean, c’mon!” Dean replied, taking a step back to motion to your body with his hands. “Also,” he added, leaning back in close to your ear, “are we supposed to kiss at midnight!?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, I think so! It’d be weird not to, my friends would ask about it!”

Dean nodded as he took another sip of beer and smiled. “This is the best date ever! I mean, I can say whatever I want without having to worry about a damn thing!” You laughed in agreement as the two of you continued to dance.

It wasn’t long before the music stopped so the DJ could announce that it was 20 seconds until midnight, and before you knew it the countdown from 10 had begun as the numbers displayed on the giant screen at the front of the club.

“FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!” The crowd roared, as the music turned on again and horns and party poppers went off in all directions. You looked at Dean who grabbed you by your waist and spun you around into a dip, kissing you passionately as all the other couples around you did the same. You giggled into the kiss, not expecting the dramatic take on it, but you didn’t mind. And damn, was he a good fucking kisser. You pushed the butterflies in your stomach down as the kiss ended and Dean placed you back on both feet, reminding yourself that you wouldn’t see him again until Valentine’s Day, per your “holidate” agreement. However, the rest of the night was a little less fun with the kiss constantly playing at the back of your mind and the fireworks that you had suppressed threatening to erupt. You found yourself reminding yourself the same thing the rest of the night: _You cannot catch feelings, you cannot catch feelings, you cannot catch feelings…_


	2. Chapter Two

_**Valentine's Day** _

**DEAN’S POV**

Dean let out a content sigh as he texted Y/N back and placed his phone on the bedside table. Laying in his bed, he stared at the ceiling, his head full of thoughts of _her_. He hadn’t seen her since New Year’s Eve – or 4:00 AM New Year’s Day, to be exact – but they had been consistently texting each other for the last month or so. It wasn’t every day, and it wasn’t about things that were that important. It started out with Dean texting Y/N to let her know that he had a great time, and Y/N responding with something along the same lines. And then a few days later, Y/N had sent him some meme that had pertained to fake dating, and after that, there were little quick conversations to follow throughout the month. Dean would never admit it to himself, but he always got so excited to see her name pop up on his phone screen. Everything felt so _easy_ around her. So relaxed. He was who he was around her, and he didn’t have to hide it. Dean heard his phone buzz and he picked it back up from his nightstand, smiling at Y/N’s response to his original text: _You still free for that thing I got tonight?_

> **Y/N:** _You mean that lame work thing on this random day in February?_

> **DEAN** : _Haha, yeah, that thing._

> **Y/N:** _Let me check my calendar._

> **Y/N:** _Yep, still no real date for this hell of a holiday. I guess I’ll spend it with you_ 😉

Dean chuckled and rolled his eyes at her sarcasm. His work was throwing a Valentine’s Day charity fundraiser gala – or something like that – he only skimmed through the email. All he knew was that he was expected to bring a date and wear a suit; two things that he would have dreaded before scoring the sweet “holidate” deal with Y/N. Now it was only one thing he dreaded – the whole black-tie thing. Although he might not mind it as much if Y/N was going to be all dressed up again. Dean groaned as he got out of bed and stretched out his limbs, pulling on some pajama pants before going out to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee.

**Y/N’S POV**

“Hey, I’m outside your place, I just didn’t want to get out of the car – it’s cold,” Dean said truthfully, as you picked up the phone. You chuckled in understanding.

“Yeah, the weather does that in February,” you replied, putting on your coat and grabbing your purse from the entryway table. “I’m heading out right now. You know, I’m surprised that that car of yours has a working heater,” you teased, as you turned off the lights and locked the front door, turning around to see Dean in his Impala sitting at the end of your driveway. You secretly thought that Dean’s car was the coolest thing ever, and you had since he picked you up in it for your last “holidate”, not that he’d ever know that.

“Shut up,” Dean laughed as he shook is head at you through the windshield and hung up the phone. You practically ran from the cold to get into the car, closing the door quickly behind you.

“Holy fuck, it’s cold as hell,” you exclaimed, placing your hands in front of the car’s air vents to warm them.

“Hell’s not cold,” Dean retorted with a smirk.

“Ha, ha. Very funny,” you teased, buckling up as Dean pulled out of the driveway. “Hi, Dean. Good to see you again,” you added with a smile, greeting him formally.

“You too, sweetheart.”

“So, what is it exactly that you do? I feel like if I’m about to meet all your work friends I should at least know what you do,” you inquired, realizing that you didn’t really know anything about him.

Dean chuckled. “I work for Chevrolet. At a dealership.”

“You’re a car salesman?”

“God, no. I’m a mechanic.”

“So you’re the one who replaces all the recalled parts and changes the oil and stuff?” You asked.

“Yeah, more or less. I specialize in older cars like Baby here, though. That’s what I enjoy the most, I mean. I’m working towards owning my own shop one day, but for now I have to work for big companies and go to their stupid little Valentine’s Day fundraisers,” Dean explained with an eyeroll.

“That’s really cool, actually,” you stated, glancing over at him with a smile. It was the first thing you’d actually _learn_ learned about him. The first thing that told you something about _who_ he actually was, or _wanted_ to be.

“What about you? What do you do? Or what do you want to do?” Dean questioned, glancing in your direction.

“Well, I’m not entirely sure yet. I love to write, though,” you admitted.

“A writer, huh? Are you any good?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’d like to think I am but I’ve never gotten an outside opinion really.”

Dean huffed. “I’d be honored to be your outside opinion,” he said with a wink.

You giggled. “I’ll think about it.”

The two of you pulled up to the hotel where the event was taking place, and Dean handed his keys to the valet before walking around to the passenger’s side to open your door. You thanked him as you slid out of the seat, smoothing out your dress as you got out of the car. Dean placed his hand on the small of your back, pausing to turn to the valet to warn him about not putting any marks on his car, and then continued to guide you to the hotel entrance. The event was being held in one of the smaller ballrooms, and as you walked in, there was definitely no mistaking that you were at an event hosted by Chevy. The logo was everywhere, and there were about three of the newest Chevy models on display in the center of the room. You were just thankful that you weren’t over-dressed. You were wearing a red skin-tight dress, which had thing spaghetti straps and a straight neckline and came down a little past your knee, but had a slit on the left side that traveled up to your lower thigh. With your heels on, you were still slightly shorter than Dean, who still had his hand on the small of your back as he pointed to certain people and told you who they were.

“Dean Winchester actually has a date. I don’t believe my damn eyes,” a gruff voice said from behind the two of you, causing you both to turn around.

“What, you didn’t think she was real or somethin’?” Dean asked with a chuckle, shaking the man’s hand.

“Son, the way you described her, hell no I didn’t think she was real,” the man said, looking at you with a smile and offering out his hand. “Bobby Singer. I’m in charge of this idjit here,” he introduced himself.

You giggled and shook his hand; he looked like any old grumpy fart who loved to fix up cars and drink beer and watch sports on TV. He had a charm to him, though. You could tell that he was loved by many, despite his apparent grumpiness. He instantly reminded you of a grandpa of sorts. “Y/N,” you smiled, introducing yourself. “It’s nice to finally meet you, I’ve been hearing so much about everyone,” you lied, trying to sell the whole fake dating thing. Obviously, Dean had mentioned you to them before. You needed to make it look realistic.

“I bet you have. And I’d be surprised if any of it was good,” Bobby half-joked, raising an eyebrow at Dean.

“You know I love you, Bobby,” Dean replied with a smirk and an eyeroll, which didn’t seem to convince Bobby.

“Yeah, I’m sure you do. Anyway, Y/N, you keep him in line tonight. He tends to have one too many at these things,” Bobby said with a wink, before walking off to talk to a colleague.

“Ignore him, he’s trying to embarrass me,” Dean mumbled.

You chuckled. “I like him. He seems honest.”

“Yeah, that’s one way to describe him.”

The rest of the night was spent mingling and talking with Dean’s coworkers, many of whom also didn’t believe that you were real. It made you wonder how Dean described you to them; he didn’t really know much about you, so what had he said? How long, in the mind of his coworkers, have the two of you been dating? Were you supposed to be in love? Brand new relationship? You had no idea. You wished that Dean would have briefed you at least a little more before the night had started, but it seemed as though the way that you had been acting was doing the trick just fine, and most importantly, you were actually enjoying this dreadful corporate holiday for once. Dean’s coworkers were wonderful. There was Benny, who kept teasingly flirting with you all night in his thick Louisiana accent until Dean may have gotten a tad bit jealous and shot him down with a warning look. Then there was Cas, who was just a total sweetheart. Bright blue eyes and a contagious smile, and Dean’s best friend in the whole world. He seemed very interested in as to why someone like you would be interested in someone like Dean. Then there was Charlie, who was the dealership’s tech girl, who made it a point to pull you aside and tell you how beautiful you looked, only to add, very nicely, that although Dean was difficult at times, he was the absolute best person she knew and that you should be careful with his heart or she’d be after you. You smiled at the over-protectiveness. It was nice to know that Dean had such good friends looking out for him; he had a strong foundation in that department, and all of them seemed to love him to the moon and back. A person’s friends can tell you a lot about that person, and so far, all they were telling you about Dean, was that he was kind, selfless, caring, and _sometimes_ funny. Those butterflies that you had felt the night that the two of you shared your first kiss were creeping up in your stomach again as you locked eyes with him and watched him walk over to you and Charlie, a glass of champagne in his hand which he handed to you with a smile.

“Thank you,” you beamed, taking the glass from him and sipping on it as Dean turned his attention to Charlie.

“What are you telling her?” Dean asked slowly, his eyebrow cocked in question.

Charlie chuckled. “Just that you may be a pain in the ass but I’ll put a virus on all her electronics if she breaks your heart.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have your own date to go bother or something?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Stevie gets way too drunk at these things. Have you seen her?” Charlie asked Dean, as she searched the room with her eyes. 

“Saw her at the bar last,” Dean chuckled, motioning towards the bar with his beer in hand.

“Ugh, of course. It was nice meeting you, Y/N! Later bitches,” Charlie said, before leaving to go find her girlfriend.

Dean gave you a cautious look, as if he was trying to figure out your opinion of her. You chuckled.

“She’s great,” you smiled, “all of your friends are.”

“Yeah, I got lucky with them. I’m takin’ ‘em all with me too, once I get my own shop and everything. I couldn’t do it without them,” he beamed as he glanced over at Benny, Cas, and Bobby, who were at a nearby table chatting with one another. He took a sip of his beer.

“Where’d you get that?” You asked, pointing to the bottle in his hand. Dean raised his eyebrows at you in surprise.

“You don’t like champagne?”

“I prefer beer,” you admitted with a shrug. Dean tried to bite back a smile, but failed miserably. “What? Can a girl not like beer?”

“No, no, she can. Just, uh – never mind, I’ll get you a bottle,” Dean mumbled, a grin still plastered on his face. He took your champagne glass back from you and headed back to the bar. You watched his slightly bowed legs walk away from you and once again tried to suppress any feelings that you might have been starting to feel. _Don’t you fucking dare catch feelings for this man, Y/N. Don’t you fucking dare_.

**_St. Patrick's Day_ **

**DEAN’S POV**

It had been a month since Dean and Y/N had last seen one another, but they had talked every day since. After the Valentine’s Day gala had ended, Dean took her home; not that he wanted to. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew himself. They may have been fake dating, but Dean knew that sooner or later he was going to have to either make it real or never speak to her again. He was falling for her; she was so easy to be around. Because of the whole fake relationship, Dean felt no pressure around her. He could be himself and not worry about saying the wrong thing, because it wouldn’t matter. The best part was, she actually _liked_ the real him. Dean was closed off; he was private and he wasn’t a relationship guy. Not since Lisa, at least. And Lisa was a long time ago. She was married now; she was happy. Happier than Dean could have ever made her with the life that he used to lead. He never could stay in one place; he never wanted to. He was always out and about the country in his Baby, looking for odd jobs, venturing out, meeting new people, making sure Sam was okay… none of that stuff made for happy relationships. And even Lisa wasn’t enough to keep him in one spot. But then about two years ago, Sam met Eileen, and now Dean didn’t feel the need to watch out for him at all times. Eileen was a badass; she was Sam’s protector as much as Dean was his. So, Dean settled down where he is now, and he got a job doing his hobby, and he started making plans for his own future; something he hadn’t done before. And through it all, he scratched his itches with one-night stands and back-alley hook-ups. He didn’t feel ready for a relationship, not yet. Not until Y/N. And now he was fake dating the only girl who he’d felt anything for in years. _God, no offense, but you’re kind of an asshole for that one_ , Dean thought, looking up at his ceiling as he sat on the edge of his bed. Tonight was St. Patrick’s Day, and Y/N’s brother was doing a bar crawl. Y/N didn’t technically need a date, but she told Dean that she’d have a lot more fun if he was there. Plus, it was technically a holiday so it’s not like they would be breaking any “Holidate” rules.

> **DEAN:** _Do I have to wear green?_

> **Y/N:** _Omg, don’t be such a downer! Yes! It’s St. Patrick’s Day_ 🍀

> **DEAN:** _My eyes are green, does that count?_

> **Y/N: 🙄** _NO!!! Wear green you dummy!_

> **DEAN:** _You’re really getting into the holiday spirit nowadays, huh?_

> **Y/N:** _No… maybe…_

> **Y/N:** _I just don’t want to hear it from my brother and his stupid friends!_

_Yeah, sure_ , Dean thought as he smiled to himself and got up off his bed to go find something green in his closet.

The first bar was a simple one; it wasn’t too crowded, it had a jukebox, booths, but not much else. No one was drunk yet; everyone was just getting to know one another as they sipped on their first drinks of the night.

“So, that’s my brother’s best friend, Jack,” Y/N said, pointing to a guy who didn’t look like he was old enough to drive, let alone go to a bar crawl with friends. “And yes, he’s 27, before you ask if he’s old enough to be here,” Y/N laughed, reading the doubtful expression on Dean’s face. Dean took a sip of his whiskey.

“If you say so,” he chuckled.

“And that,” Y/N continued, pointing to the man standing next to Jack, “is my idiot little brother, and his idiot little fiancé next to him,” she said, disgust in her tone.

Dean looked a bit taken aback. “You don’t like her?”

“Oh, no, she’s great. But she’s gotta be at least a little bit of an idiot to see anything in _my_ brother,” Y/N chuckled, chewing on her straw. “Do you have any siblings?”

One would think that the two of them have covered all the bases, in the last month of texting, but it was always over stupid things like favorite colors or TV shows. They hadn’t really talked about anything _too_ personal; an effort on both of their parts to try and keep their feelings at bay. Dean smiled as he thought of Sam. “Yeah, I got a little brother, too. But he’s only four years younger than me; you have a much bigger gap.”

“Yeah, four years seems fun. It’s like you always got a friend around,” Y/N agreed.

“Don’t get me wrong, we fought a lot when we were kids but… it’s just ‘cause my dad wasn’t around much and stuff so I had to take care of him…,” Dean trailed off, realizing he was heading into dangerous territory. He stared at the liquor in his glass as he swirled it around.

“What about your mom?” Y/N asked, genuine interest in her voice.

“Oh, uh, she died when we were little. House fire,” Dean grimaced, looking at Y/N to see if he had shared a little too much, been a little too personal.

“I’m so sorry,” she said as she lightly touched his forearm, empathy filling her eyes.

“Nah, it’s okay. It was a long time ago. I didn’t mean to bring down the mood.”

Y/N chuckled as she motioned to the bar around her. “Bring down the mood? In this place? This bar is nearly empty on St. Patrick’s Day… it doesn’t get much sadder than that,” she teased, playfully nudging Dean’s bicep.

“WE’RE ROLLING OUT!” A voice yelled, and Y/N glanced at Dean with a “here we go” expression as they got up from their seats at the bar and followed the crowd to the next one.

By the fifth and final bar, Dean and Y/N were both pretty tipsy and thankful that they had Ubered to the first bar, as neither of them were sober enough to drive. This bar was a Western-themed dive bar; but it was known for having the best drinks in town. Because of this, it was incredibly loud and crowded, so having serious conversations was pretty much off the table; Dean could barely hear anything over the music. Not that he minded; Westerns were his favorite and he had not yet checked this place out, though he’d been meaning to. He walked next to Y/N as she made her way up to the bar, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw it: the mechanical bull.

“No. Fucking. Way,” he said in awe, a grin spreading across his face.

“What?” Y/N asked, turning around to see what Dean was gawking at. He just pointed to the bull, drawing out a chuckle from Y/N. “Oh, yeah. I forgot. Westerns are your favorite, right? You’re obsessed with that show… Walker, was it?”

Dean nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah… Dude, I got to ride that thing. I bet I’d be great at it.”

“Go! Do it! I don’t think there’s that much of a line right now, c’mon,” she said with excitement as she grabbed a tipsy and awed Dean by the hand and dragged him to the end of the line.

“Are you gonna do it?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in question.

“I wouldn’t last two seconds on that thing,” Y/N laughed.

Dean let out a playful pout. “Would have been nice to watch your, you know,” Dean teased, motioning boobs bouncing on his chest with his hands.

Y/N rolled her eyes as a laugh escaped her. “You’re disgusting,” she said as she hit his arm playfully. “It looks like the record of the night is 13 seconds, do you think you can beat it?”

“Oh, baby, I’m bull riding _champion_ ,” Dean smirked, eyeing the mechanical monster.

“Mhm, I’ll believe that when I see it. I think the alcohol is making you think you’re way cooler than you are,” Y/N chaffed.

“No, no, sweetheart. The alcohol brings out the cool me.”

Y/N giggled. “I’m going to get another drink and then I’m gonna be back to watch you fall off that thing. Don’t get on ‘til I’m back!” She warned, leaving Dean at the end of the line, two riders in front of him, all three of them watching the current rider getting thrown off the bull.

**Y/N’S POV**

You came back quickly, a simple beer in your hand; you figured it might be time to slow down on the hard liquor before you said something to Dean that you might regret. He had been unapologetically himself tonight and it was making you nauseous, the way that you were trying to fight your feelings for him. The alcohol was only making it worse, but then again, it opened the door to possibilities. Under the influence of alcohol, you could say certain things, or even _do_ certain things with Dean, and then blame it on the alcohol later. However, it didn’t help knowing that you felt the same way about him sober as you did drunk. You watched with a smile on your face as he was ushered into the mechanical bull ring. You had told your brother and all his friends what was happening, so they were all chanting his name as Dean stepped into the ring, his hands raised in victory. He found you in the crowd and pointed, giving you a wink and a smirk before hopping onto the bull.

“C’MON, DEAN! YOU GOT IT!” You yelled, hearing the timer count down. The buzzer went off and the bull began to rock back and forth, slowly at first, but quickly picking up speed as the seconds went by. Dean was holding on for dear life, one hand in the air as the other clung to the handle of the fake animal. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol, but everything suddenly seemed to slow down for you. The cheering of the crowd was muted and all you could focus on was Dean riding that damn bull. His shirt got pulled up slightly every time he rocked back, exposing his abdomen slightly. His tongue kept darting out between his lips as he concentrated on staying on. The contraction of his arm muscles was visible through his flannel as he gripped on tightly. His hips rocked back and forth in rhythm with the machine, resembling the thrusts that you wish were happening on top of you.

The sound of the buzzer brought you back to reality. “WE HAVE A NEW RECORD HOLDER, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! 16 SECONDS! GIVE THIS MAN A ROUND OF APPLAUSE!” A voice boomed from somewhere in the bar. Dean waved and bowed, basking in all his bull-riding champion glory.

“Didn’t I tell you I was a champion?” Dean asked you, as he finally found you among the crowd of people who were now watching the bull’s next victim mount it.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d believe it when I saw it?” You replied with a smile, taking a sip of your beer.

“Well, you saw it!”

“Oh yeah, I was lookin’ alright,” you said with a wink.

Dean squinted at you in suspicion. “Don’t tell me you were more impressed with how I _looked_ on the damn thing than with how I _rode_ it.”

You giggled. “I can be impressed with both, can I not?”

“No, no, you can,” Dean said defensively, “I just didn’t know I would look so good riding it. Maybe you should try it. See if it has the same affect,” he winked.

You brought your beer bottle to your lips and downed the rest of it. “I can think of something else I’d rather ride,” you smirked, placing the empty bottle on a nearby table. The alcohol and your horniness had won this round. But hey, that’s why alcohol existed, right? So you could have something to blame all your bad decisions on.


	3. Chapter Three

**_The Next Morning_ **

You woke up with a pounding headache; you weren’t sure how much more you had drank after that beer but it must have been a lot, considering the extreme hangover that was beginning to slowly creep up on you. It took a minute for your eyes to adjust to the light streaming into the window; and when your vision came into focus it took you another few seconds to realize that… this was not your apartment. You bolted up from where you were laying – a couch and not someone’s bed, thank _God_ – and frantically looked around the room with your eyes to try and figure out where the hell you were. Your eyes scanned the room, landing on the side table next to the couch and stopping as you saw a picture of Dean with a taller, long-haired man, who you assumed was his brother. You let yourself breath a sigh of relief; it was just Dean’s place. You were safe. And, more importantly, you were clothed. Your fears of a “what-if kidnapping” dissolved as you laid back down and pulled the blanket that you had been sleeping with up to your neck, closing your eyes and pressing your index finger and thumb to the bridge of your nose, trying to relieve your headache.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Dean’s voice startled you. Your eyes opened once again and you sat up, the blanket still over your lap, as you groaned and leaned against the back of the couch, resting your head on the top of the couch cushions, staring up at the celling.

“What the hell happened last night?”

Dean chuckled. “We might have overdone it with the alcohol.”

“You think? Dear God, I haven’t had a hangover this bad since high school.”

“High school? Little rule breaker, were you?”

“Oh, shut up, like you weren’t the baddest boy in school. _You_ were the one _bringing_ the alcohol, I bet,” you teased, getting up from the couch and stretching your stiff limbs.

“Oh!” Dean exclaimed, as he covered his eyes with his hand. As you had gotten up, the blanket had dropped to the floor. Turns out, you weren’t as fully clothed as you thought you were. You looked down to see that you were wearing only your thong for bottoms, and then you did a double take when you realized that you were not wearing a shirt that was yours. You quickly grabbed the blanket and wrapped it back around you, a horrifying thought coming to your head.

“Wait, wait, did we…?” You asked.

“No. No, I don’t think so. I don’t know. What do you remember?” Dean stuttered, un-shielding his eyes.

“I don’t remember much past the mechanical bull.”

“Okay, uh… I think – I think your brother got us an Uber? We came back here but I don’t remember much after that…,” Dean trailed off.

“UGH!” You let out a frustrated scream as you sat back down on the couch, your face in your hands. “No, no… if we did have sex then why did I wake up on the couch? I think I just asked for something more comfortable to sleep in. I’m not a horny drunk,” you reasoned, more with yourself than with Dean.

He laughed. “ _You’re_ not a horny drunk? Is that a joke?”

You shot him a scared glare. “Oh, dear God. What’d I say?”

“I specifically remember telling you that you should ride the bull and you replied with, “I can think of something else I’d rather ride”,” Dean said, imitating you.

“Okay, _and_? That doesn’t mean it was about you! And that doesn’t mean that we did anything last night!”

“Yeah, okay. I mean, it was definitely about me, but I agree. I don’t think we did anything,” Dean smirked.

You sighed. “How do you know?”

“Well, for starters, you’d be naked. In my bed. Probably a bit sore, too. See, I like to do this thing where –”

Dean was interrupted by a couch pillow hitting him square in the face. “I don’t wanna know!” You exclaimed.

“Fine, fine. Maybe one of these days I’ll just show you,” he smirked. That damn smirk. You knew he was joking, or at least you hoped he was, because having sex with him would ruin the great thing that was going on between the two of you. You knew it would, because you were already struggling to keep your feelings for Dean at bay; throwing sex into the mix would absolutely ruin you. You knew Dean thought you were hot, you knew he’d jump at the opportunity, but what if that was all he wanted? What if that was it for him? You didn’t want to be stuck in a friends-with-benefits relationship while you had romantic feelings; you had been there and done that and you loved yourself just enough to not put yourself through that again. You chuckled meekly at his comment and stood up from the couch, the blanket still wrapped around you.

“Have you seen my dress from last night? I gotta go. I’m late for… for something,” you tried putting a smile on, but the falter in Dean’s look told you everything you needed to know. He was hurt by you wanting to leave so soon.

“Are you sure? I mean, I thought I could make breakfast, or –”

“No, yeah. I gotta go, my mom, she uh, she needs me for this thing,” you scrambled to come up with what the said “thing” might be, but no ideas came to you as you searched the room with your eyes. You saw a green piece of fabric in the corner of the room – your dress – and rushed over to pick it up off the floor. You stepped into it quickly, pulling it on over your shoulders and removing Dean’s t-shirt in one quick motion. You grabbed your purse from the nearby arm chair and headed towards the door, stopping to hand the shirt to Dean on your way out.

“Y/N,” Dean began, and you stopped to listen, “Easter’s the next holiday.”

“Yep,” you responded, reaching for the door handle.

“Do you need a date?”

You sighed. “I’ll text you,” you turned to flash him a quick smile, “bye, Dean.”

**_Three Days Before Easter_ **

You had taken a break from texting Dean since the day that you woke up on his couch. You needed to take some time to yourself and sort out your feelings on the matter. You were staring to like him, really truly like him, and that was dangerous territory for you. You always fell fast, and it always ended in heartbreak. It’s why you hadn’t had a stable relationship in so damn long; your last one just about ruined you. You were debating ending the whole “holidate” deal with Dean altogether; pushing people away once they started getting too close to you was a specialty of yours. You sighed as you started your car. You were on your way to lunch with your two best friends, and you knew they were _dying_ to ask you about Dean; they had met him at the New Year’s Eve party and haven’t seen you since then. Life gets bust but the three of you always find a way to sneak in a girl’s lunch here and there, even if it had been four months since you had last seen each other.

“Y/N!” Your friend Caroline waved as she called you over to the table she was at once you walked into the restaurant. You made your way over to her and let her engulf you in a hug. “Sarah’s in the bathroom, she’ll be out in a sec,” Caroline explained, noting the absence of 1/3 of the trio. You smiled at her.

“How have you been, Care?”

“Me? Oh, no, no… how have _you_ been with that hunk of a man on your arm? Y/N, he is too gorgeous to be real. Are you sure he’s not a hologram?”

You chuckled as Sarah came up to join the two of you, giving you a quick hug before all three of you sat down at the table.

“What are we talking about?” Sarah questioned curiously.

“Y/N’s man,” Caroline smiled as she stared at you, waiting on an answer for her previous question.

“No, he’s not a hologram. And we haven’t talked in a while, actually…,” you trailed off, not wanting to hear the earful that you were about to get from the both of them.

“What? What happened?”

“You’re not doing that thing where you push people away, are you?” Sarah questioned, her eyebrow cocked in suspicion.

They knew you too well.

“What _happened_?” Caroline prodded.

You sighed. “We went to my brother’s bar crawl for St. Patrick’s Day and… I woke up on his couch. And I just felt really weird about it because I thought that something _had_ to have happened. And it didn’t; he even offered to make me breakfast in the morning,” you rambled on, stopping only when you saw the shared look of confusion on both of your friend’s faces. It was then that you realized that you had never told them that you and Dean were only _fake_ dating. You had introduced him as your boyfriend on New Year’s Eve, and you hadn’t had a minute to catch up since then.

“So, you just… ran into him at the mall? People who look like him _shop_ at the _mall_?” Caroline asked in amazement after you had finished explaining the deal that you had with Dean.

“That’s your take-away from this?” Sarah chuckled. “How about the fact that she just agreed to all that with a total stranger!?” Sarah had always been the mom of the group.

You rolled your eyes. “Hey! I spilled my coffee all over him and he’d fucking gorgeous. I had guilt _and_ attraction working against me, can you blame me!?”

“No, I guess I can’t,” Sarah sighed. “So, are you going to see him for Easter?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, looking down at your untouched food in front of you.

“Don’t be stupid, Y/N. Of course, you’re going to see him,” Caroline scoffed, taking a bite of her salad.

“Care, you know how fast I fall for –”

“I know how fast you fall for _douchebags_. The type you usually fall for would have taken advantage of you on New Year’s Eve! Not waited three months and then avert his eyes when he saw you in your underwear and offer to make breakfast! C’mon, please don’t push away a good thing, Y/N,” Caroline practically begged.

“She’s got a point,” Sarah agreed. “Have you talked to him at all since that day?”

You shook your head. “Not really. I mean, I slowly started replying less and less and we probably haven’t texted at all since the end of March.”

“You’re an idiot,” Caroline said, a mouth full of salad. You sighed.

“Fine! Fine, I’ll text him and ask, but he probably has plans already. Easter is in three days.”

After you got home from lunch, you plopped yourself down on your couch and kicked off your shoes as you stared at Dean’s contact. If you were being honest with yourself, you missed texting him. The month between Valentine’s Day and St. Patrick’s Day had been a fun one; your phone was never dry with the jokes that you and Dean had been sending each other daily. It was a good time. You sighed as you debated whether or not you should reach out about Easter. Not bringing Dean would result in an endless stream of questions from your family about what had happened to him and effectively cut him out of your life entirely. Bringing him would eliminate the questions from your family, but it meant that you’d have to see Dean and only hope that you hadn’t talked to him just long enough for your potential feelings for him to have left. Both options risky, but in the end, your hatred of your family’s questions about your dating life, and Caroline’s, “don’t be an idiot” ringing in your head, won you over.

> **Y/N:** _Hey… you got any plans for Easter?_
> 
> **DEAN:** _Nope. You need me?_
> 
> **Y/N:** _Yeah… my family will be asking about you if you’re not there_ 🙄
> 
> **DEAN:** _Oh, please. Try to sound a little more enthused._
> 
> **DEAN:** _Did I do something that day? After St. Patrick’s?_

_Only be perfect,_ you thought to yourself.

> **Y/N:** _No. It’s never you. Always me. Just needed to take some time to clear my head is all._
> 
> **DEAN:** _You sure? Because if I made you uncomfortable or something, I’m sorry._
> 
> **Y/N:** _I promise it wasn’t anything you did! I hope I didn’t make you mad or anything, I kind of left you hanging_ 😅
> 
> **DEAN:** _Yeah, but I knew you’d come around_ 😉
> 
> **Y/N:** _Hey, it’s too soon to start being an ass again!_
> 
> **DEAN:** _Haha, see you on Easter! BTW, I don’t mess around when it comes to the egg hunt._
> 
> **Y/N:** _Yeah, neither do my little cousins. It’ll be nice to see you beat them to it… See you then!_

You let out a frustrated groan as you threw your phone to the side and laid back down on your bed. As much as you wanted to let yourself fall for him, you couldn’t help but feel like there was no way that someone with a face like _that_ wouldn’t break your heart in two. 

_**Easter** _

**DEAN’S POV**

Dean had to admit to himself that he was excited that Y/N had decided to bring him to family Easter. Her near silence over the past month had been bugging him more than it would have had it been any other girl, which is how he knew he was in trouble. That and the way that he had offered to make her breakfast the morning after St. Patty’s Day. How stupid could he have been? That probably freaked her out. Dean sighed as he reminded himself to reign in his feelings; this was a _fake_ relationship and he had no business trying to make it a real one. He liked Y/N, she was a great girl. She was perfect, actually, from what Dean knew about her – and beautiful, too. But, Dean knew everyone had baggage. He just had to find out hers and hope that it would be enough to keep him from falling. In the mean time, he was happy to spend more time with her; regardless of any romantic feelings he may be developing, it would be safe to say that Y/N is at the very least, a friend who he liked hanging out with. Every “holidate” he’d had with her had been significantly more fun than if he’d gone to any holiday parties alone.

Dean pulled up to Y/N’s place and waited for her to appear outside after he’d texted her that he was there. She came out within a few minutes in a pastel pink sun dress which she looked absolutely gorgeous in. She always looked gorgeous to Dean. _Reign it in, dude_ , he reminded himself. Dean greeted her with the same smile that he always did when she got in the car, and they started making their way to her parent’s house.

“So, I have to ask, because I consider us friends and I’d be a bad friend if I didn’t ask; are you okay? I know you said that you weren’t talking to me as much because you just needed some time to yourself, but I just wanted to double check and make sure that it was nothing I said? Or did?” Dean asked, a few minutes into the drive. Y/N sighed.

“I _promise_ I am fine. We’re good. I just get in my head sometimes and I push people away and it’s just a stupid habit I have. I’m trying to break it.” Dean chuckled. “What?” Y/N questioned, confused as to what was funny.

“Oh, nothing. We’re just so alike sometimes it’s scary.”

“I bet we’re not _that_ alike,” Y/N retorted. “Let’s cover the basics right now, I’ll prove it to you.”

“Okay, fine. We covered favorite colors and TV shows and movies over text, right? But those are more or less unimportant. What’s your favorite genre of music?”

It was Y/N’s turn to chuckle. “And _that’s_ not unimportant?”

“Hell, no! I couldn’t real date someone who listened to Bieber all day, so I can’t fake date them either! It just wouldn’t be believable,” Dean shrugged, a teasing smile on his face.

“Alright, well… I do listen to pop here and there,” Y/N admitted, watching as Dean visibly cringed at her words, “ _but_ , my favorite genre of all time is rock.”

Dean visibly relaxed. “What kind of rock? Classic? 80s?”

“My top three, in no particular order, are AC/DC, the Stones, and Zeppelin.”

_Why couldn’t you have said something like Bon Jovi? Why are you so fucking perfect?_ Dean thought to himself before clearing his throat and nodding. “Zeppelin’s my favorite. The other two are in my top five for sure. See? We’re alike.”

“Okay, okay… what’s your favorite breakfast food, lunch food, dinner food, and dessert?” Y/N asked.

Dean took a minute to think about it. “Breakfast food, without a doubt bacon. For lunch… burgers. And for dinner, it’s burgers.”

“You can’t use the same answer twice!” Y/N laughed.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have another answer! And pie for dessert.”

“Favorite type of pie?”

“Cherry.”

“Aha! A difference. Apple is the best.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Okay, but, what’s _your_ favorite dessert?”

Y/N stayed silent for a minute before answering, “Pie.”

**Y/N’S POV**

“He’s really good with them,” your aunt said whispered in your ear as you both watched Dean play with your little cousins. You smiled and nodded in agreement, unable to peel your eyes away from Dean playing tag with the kids after the egg hunt had concluded.

“He’s a big kid at heart,” you replied, unsure of how you knew it, but you just _knew_.

“You two seem to get along great. I think he’s a good fit for you,” your aunt added.

“So do I,” you replied truthfully, a smile plastered on your face as fake as the romantic relationship that you were pretending to have. It was killing you, the amount of effort you were putting into holding your feelings back.

The rest of the holiday passed quickly, but by the end, Dean had seemed to win over your entire family. It was nice, not having the usual relationship questions thrown at you, but the compliments that everyone in your family seemed to have about Dean might have been worse due to the emotional state that you were in. You wanted so badly to let your walls down, to let him in, and having your family confirm that he was as perfect as you thought he was didn’t help you dissolve your feelings for him at all. In other words: you were fucked. Not talking to him didn’t help keep those feelings at bay; all it did was make you miss talking to him. You were stuck with him now, at least until he found a _real_ girlfriend and this whole “holidate” bullshit came to an end. Whether or not that real girlfriend would be you… well, that ball seemed to be entirely in your court.


	4. Chapter Four

_**Cinco De Mayo** _

**Y/N’S POV**

You were about three margaritas in having the time of your life with Dean on the dance floor. Since Easter, the two of you were back to texting on a regular basis, however on a much deeper level this time around. At least, _he_ was telling you things about _him_ and you were doing a good job listening. You had learned quite a bit about Dean, like how his father passed away a few years ago, and how his little brother Sam has a girlfriend named Eileen and that “they’ll make you believe in love again”, and that he loved to cook and that his last relationship was with a woman named Lisa and that it didn’t work out because he had always put Sam first. He had a fucked-up childhood, and as you slowly began to unpack what his baggage was, you realized that none of it was affecting the way he was with you. He was always so honest, so open, so willing… it made you want to let your walls down a little bit, too. 

There was no denying how similar the two of you were when it came to likes and interests and most everything else in between. Granted, your childhood may not have been as fucked up as his, but your past relationships were much worse. You still hadn’t told Dean what had happened to make you so closed off, but he wasn’t prodding, which was another thing that only made you like him more. You were letting your walls down, but at your own pace. Slowly, carefully, and cautiously. You didn’t think that Dean was going to break your heart anymore, but there were always little doubts in your head. Because of your past, opening up to people was extremely hard for you, but you were almost to the point with Dean to where you were about to let him in. If he broke your heart, so be it, you were never going to attempt a relationship again. But if he didn’t… if he didn’t, it could be something beautiful. And he was doing his absolute darndest to prove that he was worth taking the risk for. As you swayed your hips to the music, Dean’s hands resting on them, you suddenly got hit with a wave of sadness as you realized that the next holiday up was Father’s Day. Your dad traveled for work a lot, so he was never really home. He was always gone on the major holidays; you couldn’t remember the last Christmas or Thanksgiving that he had been there for. He was a good man, though, at least, as much as he could be. He loved your mom and he loved his kids, which he made sure you all knew. You talked with him on the phone or over Skype at least once a month, but you hadn’t seen him in about nine months, due to his irregular and extremely hectic travel schedule. You secretly always held a little bit of a grudge against your dad for not being more present, but you couldn’t express it; your brother and your mom swore he hung the moon. He certainly tried to do what he could, but all you ever wanted was time with him. You loved your dad dearly, but because of his physical absence, Father’s Day always made you a little sad. You wondered if he’d try to make it home, or if Dean would even want to accompany you on that holiday, because of what you knew about his own dad.

“You okay?” Dean asked, as he noticed the sad look on your face. You pulled the corners of your mouth up into a weak smile and nodded.

“Yeah, just thinkin’,” you replied.

“About?”

“Next holiday. It’s Father’s Day,” you sighed, playing with the collar on Dean’s shirt. Dean nodded once in understanding.

“You never talk about him. Your dad,” Dean said, his tongue darting between his lips as the both of you continued to dance. Thank God the music wasn’t as loud here as it was on New Year’s Eve.

“He just travels a lot, for his job. I haven’t seen him in nine months. I don’t know if he’ll be back for Father’s Day; I never really know when he’s coming back,” you sighed.

“I know that feeling,” Dean chuckled. “Do you guys talk regularly?”

You nodded. “Yeah, every month or so. He goes over-the-top, trying his best, I’ll give him that. But an hour phone or video call once a month doesn’t make up for all that lost time, y’know? I can’t tell you how many Christmases and Thanksgivings he’s missed. Just kind of makes me sad on Father’s Day.”

“I’m sorry. I know it sucks,” Dean replied, offering a sympathetic smile to which you returned. “I’ll tell you what, how about… how about, if there ends up being no plans for you on Father’s Day, because Lord knows I won’t have any, we go out and do something together, yeah? In the spirit of wishing that our dads were maybe just a little more present?”

You smiled at the idea. “Yeah… yeah, I think that sounds like a plan.”

_**Father's Day** _

**DEAN’S POV**

Dean stood outside Y/N’s door, a lump in his throat from how nervous he was. In a few hours, he was meeting Y/N’s dad, who managed to take a day off and was flying in from wherever he was for Father’s Day. Y/N had been tasked with picking him up from the airport, and Dean had offered to help her, since he’d be accompanying her to the Father’s Day dinner her family had planned later in the day anyway. He knocked on the door and placed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, rocking back and forth on his feet as he waited for Y/N to answer. He knew why he was so nervous; he wanted to make a good impression. This was pretty much the last family member of Y/N’s that he had left to meet, and he wanted to win him over. Dean knew he had fallen hard for Y/N; he had accepted that fact around St. Patrick’s Day. He enjoyed his time with her more than anything else, and had been refraining from asking her out on a real, actual, non-holidate date since Easter. Y/N still hadn’t really opened up to Dean much, not about her past, at least. What she had told him about her dad was really all Dean knew in terms of things that could be potential baggage. He wanted to know everything, he wanted her to let him in, but he knew he had to be patient. He knew she’d do it in her own time. Dean knocked again, a little louder this time, starting to worry that she might have overslept until he heard her voice and footsteps on the other side of the door. She opened the door with a solemn smile, and motioned for Dean to come in as she readjusted her phone against her ear.

“Yeah, okay,” she sighed, closing the door after Dean has stepped over the threshold. Dean could tell that there was disappointment in her voice and had a feeling he knew what was happening on the other end of the line. “You sure there’s no other flight today?” Y/N asked, confirming Dean’s suspicion. He found a seat at one of the barstools at the kitchen island as he watched Y/N pace back and forth in the living room. “No, yeah, I understand. Well, happy Father’s Day anyway,” she said, but Dean could tell that she didn’t mean a word of it. She looked as though she was about to burst into tears. “Okay. Love you too,” she said, before hanging up and looking Dean’s way. “You can, um… you’re free to go. My dad just cancelled.” Dean offered her an empathetic look, hopping off of the barstool and making his way over to her.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he said, pulling her into a hug. One of his arms wrapped around her shoulder while one of his hands cupped her head, and he pulled her to his chest and placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. Y/N wrapped her arms around him, sighing as she tried to hold back tears of disappointment. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. Remember what I said last month? If we don’t end up having plans on Father’s Day, we’ll do something ourselves, right?” Y/N nodded, her cheek rubbing against his t-shirt clad chest.

“I guess it is technically a holiday, so we wouldn’t be breaking any rules,” Y/N managed to say through the lump in her throat. Dean chuckled.

“Exactly. So,” he began, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling out of the hug, “what do you want to do? Do you want to go out? Stay in? You haven’t tried my burgers yet! We could watch a movie? Play some board games? It’s up to you,” Dean rambled on, smiling down at her. Y/N sniffled before letting a smile break through her lips. He knew all the right things to say.

“I definitely don’t want to go out,” she sighed, looking down at the outfit that she had picked out for the day. “How about… I’ll change into something more comfortable, and then you can teach me how to make your burgers and then we can watch a movie and play a board game after? Just a full, fun night in. It’ll help me get my mind off my absentee father,” she scoffed, thinking about how mad she was at her dad, and then smiled when she looked up at Dean, wanting to know what he thought of the plan.

“Sounds perfect,” he grinned. “Do you have all the ingredients for burgers? Meat and buns and stuff?”

“Dean Winchester, we’ve been fake-dating for half a year! You should know me well enough by know,” Y/N faked offense, cracking a smile. “Meat’s in the freezer. Veggies are in the fridge. Buns are in the pantry. Spice cabinet is the second one from the wall. I’m gonna go change.”

“Sweet,” Dean smiled, as he made his way to the kitchen. “Don’t take too long! My burgers cannot be kept waiting!”

“Uh-huh, whatever,” Y/N said, a grin in her voice as she rolled her eyes and made her way to her bedroom, itching to change into something more comfortable. Y/N couldn’t help the hurt she felt in her heart as she took the dress off that she had bought especially for this day. She hadn’t seen her dad in so long, and although she was pissed at him for the time being for choosing work over family yet again, she still couldn’t help but miss him. She always gave him the benefit of the doubt, when it came to stuff like this. She always reassured herself that he was trying his best, but it never made it any easier. Y/N sighed as she slipped on an old AC/DC concert t-shirt and some sweats, pulling her hair up into a messy bun. That was another thing about fake-dating; she didn’t have to try to look presentable for Dean. She was comfortable around him – comfortable enough to the point where she was willing to cook greasy food in her loungewear with him.

Dean looked up from the pile of ingredients that he had placed on the counter as Y/N made her way back into the room. He grew a bit breathless at the sight of her; band t-shirt, sweats, hair up… she was still so beautiful and he bit back a smile as he realized how comfortable she probably had to be around him to wear loungewear.

“Don’t look at me,” Y/N laughed, noticing Dean’s expression as she shielded her face with her hands playfully, “I look like a troll.”

Dean pursed his lips together and rolled his eyes as Y/N walked around the kitchen counter to join him at his side, taking in the ingredients. “Still, a hot troll, if you ask me,” Dean replied with a smile. Y/N nudged his side and giggled a “shut up” before motioning to the counter.

“All this for burgers?” She asked. Dean chuckled.

“I told you, I take them seriously!”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “Alright meat man, teach me how to cook a proper burger then.”

Dean beamed at the nickname he had been given. “I’m calling myself that from now on.”

“Oh, dear God, please don’t,” Y/N laughed. Dean simply shrugged, a playful smirk on his face, as he began to teach her the art of making burgers.

“What’re we watchin’?” Dean asked, as he joined Y/N on the couch, his plated burger in one hand and a beer in the other.

“Hm, I feel like crying tonight,” Y/N shrugged, navigating to Netflix.

“So, a chick-flick, huh?”

“Hey, I’m upset and I want to cry about a romance I’ll never have!” Y/N said defensively, scrolling to the romance section.

Dean chuckled. “Alright, alright. But next time, _I’m_ picking the movie.” He bit back a smile, realizing how much he must like this girl to sit and watch a chick-flick with her. Although, he had to admit, he didn’t _hate_ The Notebook, which, thankfully, was exactly what Y/N was clicking on. “Oh man, you want to cry it all out, huh?” Dean teased. Y/N gave him some side eye as she put down the remote and picked her plate and beer up from the coffee table in front of her.

“Just – don’t make fun of me! This one’s a tear-jerker, okay? I can’t control myself,” she smiled. Dean smirked and nodded in assurance that he would not make fun of her for crying.

“Oh, I know.”

“You’ve seen it before?” Y/N asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

“Maybe… shut up,” Dean said quietly as Y/N giggled. The title screen came onto the T.V. and Dean held his beer out for Y/N to clink with hers. “To wishing our dads were around just a little bit more,” he said, and Y/N smiled as she clinked his bottle with hers. She took a sip and bit into her burger as the movie began, moaning from the deliciousness in her mouth.

“Oh my God, this is so good, Dean!” She exclaimed, looking at him wide-eyed, as if he was Gordon Ramsay.

“What’d I tell you? They don’t call me meat man for no reason,” he winked, taking a sip of his beer.

“You mean me? Who called you that once? An hour ago?” Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes. “God, that’s really gonna stick, isn’t it?”

“Sure is, sweetheart. Now shhh! You can’t cry if you’re talkin’ over the whole thing,” he replied with a smile, and the two of them continued eating and watching the most chick-flick chick-flick of all time.

**Y/N’S POV**

You let out a sob as the end credits rolled, grabbing a tissue from the box of Kleenex on the side table.

“Every freakin’ time! I’ve s-seen this movie p-probably about a hundred times, a-and I’m always such a mess,” you half sobbed, half laughed at yourself.

“If I let you in on a secret, promise you won’t make fun of me?” Dean asked, turning on the couch to face you fully. You nodded as you took a deep breath and wiped your face dry. “I cried the first time I watched it,” Dean admitted, barely audible.

“Oh, whatever! You don’t need to lie to make me feel better,” you giggled, almost fully done with your cry.

“No, I swear! It’s, you know… it makes you want to fall in love… like _that_ ,” Dean began, darting his eyes to the T.V. screen.

You nodded in agreement. “Yeah… too bad love like _that_ doesn’t exist,” you replied with a shrug, tossing your Kleenex on the coffee table.

Dean chuckled and shook his head. “You are really down on the whole love thing, aren’t you?”

“I got burned pretty bad,” you sighed, repositioning yourself so you were sat with your legs tucked under you, your body facing Dean. “My ex, he uh, well… he would cheat on me… all the time. Like, all the time. We met in college, and he was fine, for the first year. But then it started going downhill, and fast. The first time it was at a party and he was drunk. It was just a kiss. It still hurt me like hell, but I forgave him. I trusted that he meant no harm; I trusted him with everything. I told him everything about me, about my life… like I said, we met in college and I was new and looking for friends. I was an open book, back then. The second time was intentional. And the third, and the fourth. It was nothing too bad, it was just kissing. He somehow managed to convince me that kissing wasn’t cheating. Manipulative little dickhead, he was. So, I kept forgiving him and forgiving him. Because, well, when he wasn’t breaking my heart, he was my best friend. I didn’t want to lose my best friend. The first time he had sex with another girl he came to me crying. He had said it was another drunken mistake. We were in two years at this point. He seemed remorseful; I forgave him. And then it happened again. And again. And then it happened with my college best friend. Or, ex-best friend, I guess. She’s the one who told me. She was really broken up about it, said that he had come on to her, that she just couldn’t stop herself, whatever the fuck that means. And that was it for me. I cut them both out of my life right then and there,” you finished, looking to Dean to gage his reaction. You had never opened up to anyone about this, besides Caroline and Sarah, and it wasn’t even the whole story.

“Y/N… I’m – I’m so sorry,” was all Dean could manage as he looked at you with sympathetic eyes.

“God, you probably think I’m an idiot for giving him so many chances,” you laughed breathily as you dropped your head and shook it.

“What? No. I mean, _he’s_ the fucking idiot. _You_ just have a good heart. You see the best in people. It’s a good thing, it’s a beautiful thing,” Dean reassured you, laying his hand over yours as it rested on the back cushions of the couch. You looked up at him.

“Sometimes. But sometimes it really fucking hurts. And then I feel naïve and stupid for believing in the good of people in the first place.”

“Look, maybe sometimes it hurts you. But other times it gets you really good things out of it, right? I mean, you took a chance on me, and I could’ve very well been a serial killer,” Dean said with a chuckle. You rolled your eyes.

“I’m still not entirely sure that you’re not,” you joked.

“I mean, who’s to say _you’re_ not?” Dean asked, an eyebrow raised in playful suspicion.

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see,” you shrugged, adding a small laugh. “Anyway, it’s game time. Everything I own is on that bookshelf over there,” you said, changing the subject and motioning over to your shelf of board games in the corner.

“Hmm,” Dean thought, as he got up from the couch and walked over to the shelf, examining what you had to offer. “You any good at Monopoly?”

“The best.”

“Alright,” Dean began, as he pulled the tattered box off the shelf (Monopoly was your family’s favorite, and you got stuck with the oldest box) and walked back over to where you were now sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, “get ready to get your ass kicked.”

You chuckled. “You just wait, Dean Winchester. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

**DEAN’S POV**

They were about an hour and a half into Monopoly, and Y/N had secured Boardwalk and Park Place, as well as the cheapest properties on the board. It was only four properties, but Dean only had the red ones and a railroad which wasn’t raking him in much money. Thankfully, he had been just barley missing Boardwalk with each roll, almost always landing on Mediterranean Avenue instead. Which, slowly but surely, was draining him dry, considering Y/N had three houses on each.

“How the hell are you winning with _those_ properties!?” Dean exclaimed, as he handed over yet another handful of fake cash to her.

“That’s for me to know and for you to never find out,” she replied with a smirk, recounting what Dean had handed her, making sure he wasn’t trying to cheat.

“Well, fuck it. Give me my $200 for passing go and then I’m building hotels on the reds.”

“Okay,” Y/N said in a sing-song voice, handing over the money, “but I’m not gonna land on them.”

Dean rolled his eyes and built his hotels, hoping that she’d get unlucky soon. It didn’t help. Y/N’s rolls went something like: free parking, new property, community chest (where she collected $50), new property, and passing go (another $200). In the meantime, Dean’s rolls got him jail, Mediterranean Avenue, one of Y/N’s new properties, another one of Y/N’s new properties, community chest (which got him “go straight to jail, do not pass go, do not collect $200”), and then, finally, what made him go bankrupt; Boardwalk with a hotel. “Here, take it! Take it all!” Dean said dramatically, handing over all his money and properties, pushing his little hotels on the board towards her. Y/N was in the midst of a giggle fit as she saw how playfully dramatic Dean was being.

“I accept your payment but I still don’t think it’s enough,” she laughed, trying to calculate how much it would all be.

“Please!” Dean begged, falling to the floor dramatically, “Please, Y/N, have mercy on me!” He continued his performance, looking over at her from the floor. She was laughing harder now, which only egged Dean on. “You can take everything I have, just spare my life!”

“Dean, this isn’t Game of Thrones,” she managed to say between her laughs, which made Dean chuckle, breaking him out of his character. He was still on the floor lying on his back, and he looked up at her, his heart beating a million miles a minute as he watched her laugh. She was so beautiful. Y/N looked down at Dean and decided to join him, laying down on the floor in the opposite direction, her head right next to Dean’s. She looked over at him, and for a minute Dean almost couldn’t stop himself from leaning in for a kiss. But he knew he had to wait. He knew he couldn’t rush this, as much as he wanted to. Y/N was just starting to open up to him; he couldn’t ruin it by doing something stupid now. No matter how badly he wanted to. Sure, they had kissed once already, but it wasn’t real. It was for show. There were sparks when it happened, hell, there were fucking fireworks inside Dean when his lips touched hers, but he ignored it. With all his willpower he ignored it. _Don’t go falling for this girl, you idiot_ , was what he had said to himself that night, after the kiss. But he couldn’t stay away from her. She was magnetic. He smiled at her as they stared into each other’s eyes for a minute or so, a comfortable silence blanketing the two of them, their post-laughter heavy breathing being the only thing to accompany it. “Thank you,” Y/N smiled.

“For what?”

“Today. The burgers, the movie, the game. Just for staying. I think this might just be the most favorite Father’s Day I’ve ever had.”

Dean huffed a chuckle. “Yeah, me too, sweetheart. Thanks for letting me stay. And openin’ up to me about all that stuff… if you ever need someone to beat up your dickbag ex-boyfriend…,” Dean trailed off.

Y/N laughed softly. “You’ll be the first person I call. You know, you’re a really wonderful fake boyfriend,” she added, placing her hands under her head, her eyes still on Dean. Dean mimicked her pose and chuckled. “Why are you single? I mean, I know all the stuff about Lisa and everything but… here and now… how did you get stuck fake-dating me?”

Dean frowned at her. “I’m not _stuck_ fake-dating, you. I really enjoy our time together, I –,” Dean paused as he thought of what to say next; he knew he had to tread carefully as not to scare her, “I don’t want to hang out with anyone else.”

Y/N nodded as she took in the information, trying to bite back a smile. “I really like hanging out with you, too. I’m just – I have to be careful, I –”

“Hey, you don’t have to explain anything to me. Any time with you is good time,” Dean stopped her, before she could continue rambling. She grinned at him, unable to comprehend that he was a real human being. He was simply _perfect_ , and her stupid brain was hindering her feelings because it was scared to get hurt again. Her heart, however, was all there. Y/N sighed as she debated on whether or not to ask the next question. She had been thinking on it for quite some time, but she was undecided on what to do about it. She decided to go with her heart.

“So… my brother’s wedding is in August,” she began, “and I know it’s not technically a holiday but I do need a plus one and there’s no holiday that month anyway so I just thought that –”

“I’m there,” Dean interrupted with a smile, his heart soaring at the prospect of going on a non-holiday date with her.

“You’re a lifesaver, Dean Winchester,” Y/N replied, a sigh of relief escaping her lips.

“You know that breaks the Holidate rules, though.”

“Who says a wedding’s not a holiday?” Y/N countered, her eyebrow raised.

“You just did!”

“I said _technically_! They count as like… personal holidays, right?”

Dean chuckled. “I guess they do now.”


	5. Chapter Five

_**4 th of July** _

**Y/N’S POV**

You smiled at yourself in the mirror as you smoothed out your outfit; a red button up blouse with spaghetti straps and blue jean shorts. It was the 4th of July, and Dean had asked you to accompany him to his annual cookout. It wasn’t even that he needed a date, but the two of you have been fake dating for so long that all his friends would have been questioning your absence. Most of the people who were coming you had already met at the Valentine’s Day event; Bobby, Benny, Cas, Charlie – you were excited to see them again as you really had enjoyed speaking with them that night. However, you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous as you thought about the people who were going to be there who you hadn’t yet met. Dean’s brother and his girlfriend were coming, as well as some old family friends who Dean had said were the only real family, besides Sam, that he had. You and Dean hadn’t seen one another since Father’s Day, per the “holidate” rules which only you had any intention of following, but you had been texting every day. You were definitely more open with him; answering questions when he asked about your past and such, but he still didn’t know the full toxicity of your past relationship. Though, you were closer to telling him than you had been with any other guy since. Your walls were crumbling for him, and you only hoped that you wouldn’t have to build them back up again. Your phone chimed and you smiled as you had a feeling about who it would be.

You were sure that you had been speeding the whole way to Dean’s. You had offered to come over a little earlier than everyone else to help set up, and although he protested at first, you eventually got him to agree. You wanted to spend some time with him alone, even if it was just an hour or so before everyone arrived.

**DEAN’S POV**

Dean heard a car pull up into the driveway from where he was grilling in the backyard and smiled to himself with excitement as he realized he was about to see her face again. He absolutely hated that she was being such a stickler for these stupid “holidate” rules, but there was nothing he could do about it besides be patient. She was opening up to him and Dean had a feeling that it wouldn’t be long before she’d let him take her out on a real, actual date. He hadn’t even touched the topic yet, as to not push her, but if tonight went well (and if Sam approved, because he could usually spot the bad ones from a mile away) then he’d be asking her after her brother’s wedding. Dean set his spatula down on the grill’s side table and walked out the back gate to greet her.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he smiled when he saw her, not even trying to hide the way his eyes traveled down her body.

“Hi!” She replied excitedly, quickly reaching into the car and grabbing her purse out of the passenger’s seat before walking over to him and planting a kiss on his cheek. Dean gulped at the contact of her lips on his skin. “Nice apron,” she chuckled as she took a step back to look him over.

Dean rolled his eyes. “C’mon, you can come through back here,” he said, turning around and heading towards the gate that led to the backyard with Y/N at his heels.

“It smells so good,” she stated, taking in the cookout smell. Dean smiled as he checked on the patties, flipping them so they cooked evenly.

“And you know they taste just as good, too.”

“They taste better,” Y/N countered, looking around the backyard. It was green as can be; she could tell that Dean took good care of it. There was a wooden fence enclosing the large space, and a few huge trees scattered about providing a good amount of shade. In the center of the yard there was a fire pit, with chairs surrounding it and a picnic table off to the side. It looked for a good place for family and friends to gather, and Y/N was getting excited for what the night would entail. “Okay,” she sighed as she stood next to Dean at the grill after she put her purse on the picnic table. “What can I do to help?”

Dean chuckled. “Nothin’, I told you. You can come over early all you want but I’m not puttin’ you to work. You’re a guest,” he replied, giving her a knowing look.

“That’s fine, I guess you won’t be shooting off any of the fireworks I brought with me then,” she shrugged, as she began to walk back towards the picnic table. Dean grabbed her by the arm with his free hand and spun her around.

“You found some!?”

Dean had forgotten to buy fireworks and didn’t realize it until too late. They were sold out absolutely everywhere and he had been pretty bummed about it when he texted Y/N asking her if she knew where to get any. At the time, her answer was no, and Dean had to settle with a no fireworks 4th of July.

“Yep,” Y/N smiled, popping the “p”.

“Where!? How much were they, let me pay you!”

“A place, none ya, and no,” Y/N replied, a smirk on her face. Dean squinted at her in frustration. “Now, let me help you!” She added, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Y/N, you really don’t –,” Dean stopped once he saw the look on her face and realized there was no point in arguing. “Fine. If you want, you can get all the coolers set up. The ice is already in them but the drinks are in the fridge,” he grumbled.

Y/N grinned. “See, was that all that hard?” She asked rhetorically, before turning on her heels and making her way inside. Dean stifled a groan as he watched her walk away from him, her hips swaying side to side in those jean shorts of hers, the sun glistening on her shoulders. She was perfect, and he was scared that nothing could ever convince him otherwise.

**Y/N’S POV**

“You look nervous,” Dean chuckled, as you sat at the picnic table waiting for people to start arriving. Everything was set up for the most part; Dean had a few patties left to grill but he decided to wait until people showed up so he could serve some fresh.

“I’m just – it’s your brother, y’know? Like, I haven’t met any of your family, I want to make a good impression. Plus, I have to sell that we’re actually dating!”

“That didn’t seem to be a problem for you on Valentine’s Day,” Dean countered, raising his eyebrow at you.

“No, but, I don’t know. Those were coworkers, this is your family,” you sighed, realizing that you were bouncing your leg anxiously.

“Sweetheart, I can assure you there ain’t no difference between my coworkers and my family. They’re all family to me,” he smiled, before adding, “and they _loved_ you. So, relax. Sammy ain’t nothin’ to be worried about, I promise you. He’s just freakishly tall, but other than that, he’s a little brother, and you have one of those, right? So, just be yourself.”

You looked up at him and nodded as the both of you heard another car pull up into the driveway. He winked at you and turned up the outside stereo, “Surfin’ USA” by the Beach Boys beginning to play, setting the mood for the day.

“Sammy!” Dean exclaimed as his brother walked through the back gate a minute later, a girl with dark hair following right behind him. You assumed that she was Eileen. Dean gave his brother a bro hug, and then engulfed Eileen in a hug and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I missed you two, it’s been too damn long,” he smiled, before looking in your direction. You had gotten up from your seat at the picnic table and had began making your way over to the couple. “This is Y/N, Y/N, this is my brother Sam and his girlfriend Eileen,” Dean said, introducing the freakishly tall man and smaller, petite woman.

“So, you’re the girl my brother won’t shut up about, huh?” Sam asked, holding his hand out for you to shake.

You blushed. “I guess I am,” you replied shyly, shooting Dean some side eye.

Eileen came up behind Sam to introduce herself, catching you a little off guard when she began signing her name to you as she spoke. Dean had failed to mention she was deaf, and as you glanced over at him briefly. He looked a bit sheepish has he realized that he had forgot to mention what could be a rather important detail. You smiled to yourself, because little did Dean know, you took a more than a few ASL classes in high school and college, and you had never been more thankful for it than you were right now.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you,” you spoke as you signed, catching both Sam and Dean off guard as a grin spread across Eileen’s face.

“Woah, woah, woah, wait,” Dean rambled, taking a few steps toward you, “You speak sign language?”

You chuckled. “I took a few classes here and there. I’d say I’m at an intermediate level,” you explained. You looked over at Eileen, who still had an ecstatic look on her face.

“I’m just glad you can sign at all. Took us ages to teach this one,” she said as she signed, nodding her head towards Dean. “Don’t worry about not being fluent, I can read lips,” she added, easing your concern a little. You nodded in understanding and then looked at Dean with your eyebrows raised.

“You learned sign language?” You asked, absolutely touched that he would learn a whole new language just so he could communicate with his brother’s girlfriend in a way that was more comfortable for her.

“Well, yeah! Gotta complain about my little brother with someone who understands my pain somehow, and the best part is that I can do it from across the room,” Dean smiled as he signed, shooting a wink in Eileen’s direction who giggled as Sam rolled his eyes.

“Knock, knock!” Came a joyful voice from behind the gate and the four of you turned around to see who could be entering.

“Donna!” Dean beamed.

“Not just me!” The woman replied, who was now stepping through the gate followed by a whole gang of other women.

“And Jody and Alex and Claire and Patience and Kaia! Gang’s all here, huh?” Dean asked rhetorically as they all greeted one another, Sam and Eileen passing out their hugs, too.

“You must be Y/N,” the woman Dean called Jody smiled as she walked over to you and engulfed you in a hug as well. “I did not think you were real,” she chuckled as she looked at you.

You giggled. “Not the first time I heard that, actually. Makes me wonder how he’s been describing me.”

Jody laughed. “You got nothin’ to worry about, trust me. I’m Jody, by the way, that’s my best friend Donna, and then those are my girls, Alex, Claire, Patience, and Kaia,” Jody said, pointing each one out as she introduced them. “Dean hasn’t had a girl in a long time so they’re all going to want to get to know you, just a fair warning,” she smiled.

You nodded. “Well, I can’t wait to get to know all of you,” you replied with a grin.

**DEAN’S POV**

The cookout technically had started at 3:00, but it was about 4:30 when everyone who was invited had finally showed up. Dean was pretty much stuck at the grill for the first hour or so, watching Y/N out of the corner of his eye as he cooked his famous burgers. Right now, she was sitting at the picnic table with Claire, Charlie, and Eileen, laughing at something that Charlie had said. Eileen made eye contact with him from across the yard and signed, “I like her”, with a smile. Dean smirked at her and signed back, “me, too”, double checking to make sure that Y/N was still engrossed in whatever conversation she was having with Claire and Charlie. He looked down at the grill to flip another burger and Sam appeared at his side, making Dean jump a little when he spoke.

“Dude, Eileen will _kill_ you if mess it up with this one,” Sam said in a low voice as he chuckled at Dean’s flinch.

“Jesus, don’t creep up on me like that. And yeah, I’m getting that vibe from her,” Dean huffed a breathy laugh, continuing to flip the rest of the burgers on the grill.

“Hell, I’ll help her kill you if you mess it up. She’s perfect for you,” Sam added, taking a sip of his beer.

“And you know this how? You’ve said hello to her.”

“No, we had a little talk.”

“Oh, great,” Dean said sarcastically, “what about?”

“None ya. You’ll have to ask her. But just know… I like her for you,” Sam smirked.

“I like her for me, too,” Dean sighed, glancing over in Y/N’s direction again. He was getting real tired of watching her from the grill; to all these people, they were a couple. They were real-life, totally-not-fake-dating. And because of that, Dean could act on most of the feelings that he was feeling towards her. He could touch her, hug her, plant kisses on her cheek… but he couldn’t do the other things he also so badly wanted to do, like kiss her hungrily, tear those shorts off her and fuck her up against the wall after everyone was gone. Dean felt his dick twitch as he began to fantasize about her, but he quickly willed the thoughts away as he saw her approaching him. _Keep it the fuck together, man_ , he reminded himself. Y/N walked up to him and planted a kiss on his cheek, causing Dean to bite back a smile.

“Anything I can do to speed up the process?” She asked sweetly, looking around the grill to try and gauge how much longer Dean would be at it.

“What, you miss me already?” Dean smirked as he raised an eyebrow.

“No, I’m having a great time, actually. I just feel bad that you’ve been standing here for hours,” she chuckled, looking about the party.

“I’ll be done in 5,” Dean said as he smiled down at her, “Promise. Go, socialize! Have fun! I’ll come find you when I’m finished.”

Ten minutes later Dean was pulling two beers out of a cooler and turning around to try and find Y/N in the crowd of all his closest friends. He saw her sitting with Jody and Donna in the chairs that circled the firepit, and Dean walked up behind her and planted a kiss on the top of her head as he handed her a beer.

“Thanks, babe,” Y/N said with a smile as she took the bottle from him, making it sound like she called him that every day.

“Of course,” Dean replied.

“Here, take a seat,” Y/N said, standing up from her chair and motioning towards it.

“Oh, I’ll just go find a –”

“No, sit. I’ll sit in your lap,” she explained, shooting Dean a subtle wink. She was either really trying to sell it for Jody and Donna or she actually _wanted_ to be that close to him. Either way, Dean got to be close to her, so he was happy to take a seat and pull her into his lap.

“You two are too damn cute,” Donna smiled as she watched the interaction.

“What can I say, we try our best,” Dean shrugged, earning him a soft hit on his arm from Y/N.

“Don’t be cocky,” she giggled. “Thank you, Donna.”

“Dean, you _ever_ hurt her, and I’ll –,” Jody began, only to be interrupted by Dean.

“I know, I know, you’ll kill me. You and Eileen and Sam and probably everyone else here. You’ve won all my closet people over, congratulations,” Dean said to Y/N with a wink and a smile, who returned the gesture.

Another hour passed and the sun was beginning to set, and Dean decided it was probably time to start getting the fireworks ready.

“Wait, you’re not setting them off in the backyard, are you?” Y/N asked, as she watched Dean look over the contents of her trunk. Dean looked at her and cocked his head as to say, “did you seriously just ask me that?”.

“Yes, actually. I like seeing if I can aim them just right and get them in between the many tree branches that hang over my yard,” he replied sarcastically, adding a wink to make sure she knew he was only joking.

“Hey, I don’t know what you might be thinking up there in that gorgeous head of yours,” Y/N countered with a soft laugh.

“I promise I’m not _that_ dumb,” Dean chuckled as he lifted a box of fireworks out of the trunk with a grunt. “We’re all walking down the street to that clearing down there,” Dean nodded over Y/N’s shoulder, and she turned around to see what he was talking about. Dean’s neighborhood was still fairly new, so there was a cul-de-sac at the end of it which was surrounded by land that was in the process of being cleared to build more houses. At the state it was in right now, it was perfect for shooting off fireworks.

“The neighbors won’t mind?” Y/N asked, turning back to face Dean.

“Nah, they’re all out of town. And even if they weren’t, these fireworks are about to put on the best show ever. Thanks to you,” Dean smiled, “I still don’t know how you found any.”

Y/N just shrugged, still unwilling to disclose where she got her stash of explosives from.

It was another hour before Dean had corralled everyone down to the cul-de-sac at the end of the street; it was properly dark now and he couldn’t wait to watch the fireworks; Y/N had brought some big ones.

“Alright, alright,” Dean began loudly, settling everyone down. The first firework was set up in the middle of the cul-de-sac, everyone gathered a few yards away from it by the curb. “As you know, I’ve had this cookout for a few years now, and I always like to give a toast before I light the first firework,” he continued. “You all know I’m a man of few words, so, I’d just like to say, thank you everyone for comin’… and family don’t end in blood,” he finished, raising his beer bottle and everyone followed suit. “Oh, and I’d also just like to add a thank you to my girlfriend Y/N… sometimes you make me question if our relationship is even real, because it’s hard to believe that something can be this good,” he added with a wink, making Y/N blush and the crowd around them add in their “awws”. “Alright, happy 4th everyone!” Dean said, as an eruption of bottle clinks broke the silence. Y/N watched as Dean bent down and lit the fuse of the first firework, running over to stand by her side as soon as it caught fire. The firework lit up the sky with its red white and blue colors, dissolving into smaller fireworks as it faded away.

“Woah, that was a fancy one!” Donna exclaimed.

“You can thank Y/N for all these, by the way! She managed to find them last minute after my dumbass forgot to buy some,” Dean said, making sure he gave her all the credit before going to set up the next few fireworks.

The rest of the night went by quickly, and by 10:30 PM Dean had ushered the last few people out of the back gate. Everyone but Y/N, of course. He turned to her and raised his eyebrows.

“So? Thoughts?”

“You’re awesome, they’re all awesome, the food was awesome, the night was awesome,” Y/N smiled.

“Bit overuse of the word awesome there, don’t you think?” Dean chuckled as he opened the back door for her and ushered her inside. She stepped through the threshold without hesitation; she was just about dying of the heat outside.

“There is no such thing as the overuse of an awesome word… and awesome is an awesome word,” Y/N shrugged, followed by a yawn.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay to drive home? You can always crash here if you need to. I can take the couch,” Dean offered, as he watched her take a seat at one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter. She closed her eyes for a minute to think about his offer, trying to gauge how tired she was and how many beers were in her. She was definitely as close to tipsy as you can be without actually being tipsy, and she was dead tired. She sighed before answering.

“You know, if you’re offering, sure. But you are _not_ giving up your bed! I’ll take the couch, I’ve slept on it before,” she smiled, remembering bits and pieces of St. Patrick’s Day. It seemed like forever ago.

“You sure?” Dean questioned.

“Yes, I’m sure. Although, do you have a shirt I can sleep in? And a shower? If it’s not too much to ask… I smell disgusting from being outside all day.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Let me grab you one,” Dean said, as he disappeared down a hallway and around a corner. He came out a minute later with a t-shirt that had a ’67 Impala on the front of it.

“How fitting for you,” Y/N giggled, as she took the shirt from him.

“And here’s a towel, too,” Dean said, handing her one. “The bathroom’s down the hall, last door on the left. It’s also connected to my room so don’t walk through the wrong door when you’re done… or do,” he added with a wink. Y/N rolled her eyes.

“You’re disgusting.”

“You like it.”

“Whatever,” she smiled, before hopping off the barstool and making her way down the hall. Dean sighed as he poured himself a glass of water and downed it, realizing he hadn’t had any all day. He heard the shower turn on in the distance and took a deep breath as dirty thoughts of Y/N started creeping up in his mind again. She just looked so damn _good_ today. Her blouse showed off her breasts just the right amount, he shorts were just long enough to be appropriate for a family gathering but just short enough to leave Dean wondering what it would look like under them. He knew she wore what she wore because it was hot as hell outside, but Dean wanted to believe that it was maybe also partly to tease him a little. And now she was in his shower. Naked. Dean poured himself another glass of water and downed it again, trying to cool himself down, although it wasn’t helping. God, he wanted to do so many dirty things to her. All over this goddamn house. He’d fuck her on every surface if he ever got the chance. Dean thought back to how hard he had to suppress his hard on when she was sitting on his lap earlier today, her ass accidentally brushing up against his cock a few times… an involuntary groan escaped his lips as he thought about the possibility of the brushes not being accidents. _Pull it the fuck together, you idiot_ , Dean’s subconscious reminded him, semi-pulling him out of his thoughts. His eyes only snapped open when he heard the shower turn off, and Dean looked down to see a full erection present in his jeans. _Fuck_. Dean quickly made his way to his room before Y/N could come out of the bathroom, not wanting her to see him like this. Dean heard the bathroom door open and close.

“I’m done, Dean!” He heard Y/N call out.

“OK, cool! Uh, I’m getting ready for bed myself actually, I’m beat. So, uh, I’m gonna shower and then hit the hay. There’s blankets on –”

“The couch already, I know,” Y/N interrupted. “Goodnight!”

“Night!” Dean replied, relieved that he could finally take care of himself in the shower.

**Y/N’S POV**

“I’m done, Dean!” You announced, as you closed the bathroom door behind you. You clung to the towel that was wrapped around your naked body, hoping that Dean would be in the kitchen where you had left him. You thought about going in through the door that led to his room, but you were scared that there’d be no backing out of that one, had he happened to be in there. He looked so good all day, in his jeans and black button up shirt, manning the grill. Your mind had been racing with dirty thoughts of him all damn day, so you decided to take a chance. If you walked out in just your towel and Dean was still standing in the kitchen, which could be seen from the living room where you’d be sleeping, then it was a sign. You needed to get over your stupid barriers and break down your walls and just give in to your desires already. Do something that you wanted to do without worrying about anything else for once. However, if Dean was in his room, then it just wasn’t your time, not yet.

“OK, cool! Uh, I’m getting ready for bed myself actually, I’m beat. So, uh, I’m gonna shower and then hit the hay. There’s blankets on –”

“The couch already, I know,” you interrupted. Well, that determined your fate for the night. “Goodnight!” You added.

“Night!” You heard Dean reply.

You sighed as you made your way to the couch and dropped the towel, replacing it with Dean’s t-shirt that he had given you to wear. You thought about how forward your plan was, and then scolded yourself for even thinking of it in the first place. _You can’t be so reckless, not with him. Not with this. He’s different and you know it. Take your time_ , the logical side of you reminded yourself. You were suddenly thankful that Dean had not in fact been where you had left him; you weren’t sure how you would explain appearing in front of him with only a towel on when he had given you a shirt to wear. However, regretting your impulsivity wasn’t dulling the throbbing that you had been feeling in your core all day. You groaned softly in frustration as you made yourself comfortable on the couch, pulling the blankets over you. You knew you weren’t going to be able to sleep unless you took care of yourself, and once you heard the shower turn on, you knew it was safe for you to start creeping your fingers towards the heat that you’d been feeling in between your legs since you laid eyes on Dean today.

**DEAN’S POV**

Dean leaned his back against the shower wall, his cock in his hand, as he pumped it slowly. His eyes were closed and his head thrown back, as he began imagining her…

_“You need help with that?” Y/N asked, as she pulled back the shower curtain to be met with Dean’s position in the shower. Dean opened his eyes to watch her as she stepped into the water, the droplets cascading down the curves of her naked body. He watched as she dropped to her knees, replacing his hand with her own, looking up at him through her lashes with a devilish smile on her lips._

_“Fuck,” Dean breathed, throwing his head back. He twitched as he suddenly felt her tongue on his cock, licking slowly up the shaft. He looked back down at her, not wanting to miss a second of the show. She never broke eye contact with him as she continued to expertly work her muscle along his cock, drawing breathy moans from his lips. She smirked at him briefly before taking him into her mouth, a groan escaping Dean’s throat. She began bobbing her head, swirling her tongue around the tip of his cock when she could, using her hand to pump what she couldn’t fit into her mouth. “Fuck, fuck, stand up,” Dean managed to get out between huffs as her mouth began bringing him to the edge. Y/N obeyed and Dean immediately spun her around against the shower wall, her back to him. She pushed her ass out to him without even being asked, and Dean wanted nothing more than to feel what it was like to be inside of her…_

**Y/N’S POV**

_“You’re gonna make a mess on my couch,” Dean said, catching you off guard. You opened your eyes to look over at him, leaning against the doorway, arms folded over his chest, a smirk on his face. You had no idea how long he’d been watching you touch yourself, but you didn’t care._

_“Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”_

_“Help.”_

_Within three strides he was hovering over you, one of his hands forming a dip in the couch near your head, the other replacing your hand with his own. He cupped your pussy, letting out a soft growl as he felt the wetness between your legs._

_“What’s got you so wet, sweetheart?”_

_“You,” you gasped, as he pushed a finger inside you._

_“Been wet for me all day, haven’t you?” He hummed, beginning to pump his finger slowly. All you could bring yourself to do was nod. “Use your words.”_

_“Fuck, yes,” you replied breathily. Dean chuckled and added a finger, leaning down to bring your lips into a deep and passionate kiss. His tongue swiped across your bottom lip, more so demanding than asking for entry, and you gave it to him, letting his muscle explore your mouth before he pulled away and scooted down towards the end of the couch. He looked up at you with a smirk before licking a stripe up your folds, bringing a moan from your lips. You tangled your hand in his hair, grasping at the short strands, as he dipped his head down and began working his tongue through your wet folds, continuing to pump his digits in and out of you slowly. “Fuck, Dean. Fuck me. Please, just fuck me,” you begged as you squirmed underneath him. You wanted nothing more than to feel what it was like to have him inside of you…_

**DEAN’S POV**

White ropes of cum fell to the shower floor to be washed down the drain almost instantly as Dean threw his head back in ecstasy. He tried his best to keep his voice low, out of fear that Y/N might still be able to hear him, but it was one of the best orgasms of his life and he couldn’t help but let out a “fuck!” as he felt his release. He stood leaning against the shower wall for a moment as he caught his breath, his cock growing soft in his hand. God, he wanted her so bad. If the mere thought of her alone made him cum this hard, he only wondered what she’d be like in real life. Dean stored the thought in the filing cabinet at the very back of his brain, knowing that he’d use it again to get himself off another time. That is, unless he got lucky and could actually experience her outside of his mind. Dean sighed and quickly finished his shower, listening closely for any sounds outside of the bathroom that might indicate that Y/N was still awake. Only a soft groan came from the living room, and Dean cursed himself for not fighting her harder on taking the couch. She was probably tossing and turning from how uncomfortable the damn thing was.

**Y/N’S POV**

All your muscles tensed as the coil in your abdomen snapped and your orgasm shot through you. You tried to hold back your moans to the best of your ability, but a small groan escaped passed your lips and you hoped that Dean didn’t hear it as the shower had only turned off moments ago. You could have sworn you heard a “fuck” coming from the bathroom a few minutes ago, but you just figured that Dean had probably dropped the soap bar on his foot or got shampoo in his eyes; he seemed like the type to have those things happen to him on a consistent basis. You giggled breathily at the thought. He was such a dork, and over the past six and a half months of fake-dating he had truly come to be one of your best friends. As much as you kept trying to push your more romantic feelings for him aside, they kept creeping back. So much so, in fact, that here you were, masturbating to the thought of _him_ on _his_ couch. _Fuck, I’m in trouble now._


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: attempted sexual assault (no actual assault occurs)

**Wedding Day**

**DEAN’S POV**

Dean sighed as he shrugged his suit on in the mirror. Today was Y/N’s brother’s wedding day, and it was also the day that Dean had planned to ask her out on a real non-holidate date. He had a plan to where it wouldn’t technically break _too_ many holidate rules, but it definitely didn’t fall in line to all of them either. Dean swallowed the lump in his throat as he remembered the other big thing that was happening today; he was finally meeting Y/N’s dad. He tried to push down the resentment he was already feeling towards the man because of how upset he had made Y/N on Father’s Day, and kept reminding himself that he hadn’t actually met him yet, and it wasn’t fair to judge him on that action alone. It wouldn’t stop him from judging a little bit anyway, though. His phone chimed and Dean took it out of his jacket pocket, already knowing who it would be.

Dean smiled down at his phone screen. Him and Y/N had been overly flirtatious with the texting lately, not that he was complaining, but he hoped that it wouldn’t hinder his progress when it came to getting her to open up to him. He knew that there was still something she wasn’t telling him, and he didn’t want her to think that he just wanted to have sex with her once and send her on her way. No, Dean knew that he had it bad. He wanted her every night and every morning. During their weeks apart in between “holidates”, all Dean thought about was the next time he’d get to see her. She occupied every space in his mind. Dean had started thinking that she was it for him, and he just hoped that he could make her see that he could possibly be it for her, too. Dean had to admit that patience was not his strong suit, however, and his was wearing a little thin. He wanted nothing more than to just be _with_ her, but he knew he had to wait. He knew he couldn’t push, but he could maybe give a little shove here and there. God knows she needed it.

**Y/N’S POV**

You smoothed out your lilac bridesmaids dress as you looked at yourself in the mirror. You felt like a princess, even though it wasn’t your day. You didn’t care. You soaked in every moment in which you could look into the mirror and actually like what you see; your ex did a great job of taking that ability away from you. You quickly pushed the thoughts of him out of your mind – they always started creeping up when you were at your happiest. It was a hold that he still had over you, no matter how much you tried to get rid of it. You figured that only time could heal the wounds that he had left, and it simply hadn’t been enough time yet. You sighed as you took a look at yourself in the mirror again, before peering out of the room’s window. Your brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law insisted on an outdoor venue, against everyone’s advice, but you were glad that the venue chosen at least came with a small building that had a few changing rooms and bathrooms. You were taking all the AC you could get before you had to be outside in the heat for God knows how long through the ceremony and reception.

“Y/N/N?” You heard a familiar voice ask, a smile growing on your lips as you turned around.

“Dad!” You exclaimed as you practically ran to your father, letting him engulf you in a tight hug. It had almost been a year since you’d last seen him, and although the whole Father’s Day thing left a little crack in your heart, you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on that right now.

“How are you, sweetheart? I’ve missed you,” he said, squeezing you a little tighter and placing a kiss on the top of your head. You looked up at him as you broke the hug.

“I’m good, Dad. Real good. Just happy you made it,” you smiled.

“Well, I’m not going to miss my own son’s wedding! And I hear you have a boyfriend now, will I get to meet him?”

You rolled your eyes. Of course, that would be his first question. “Only if you’re going to be nice to him.”

He chuckled. “I’ll decide whether or not he deserves any niceties. That last one –”

“I don’t want to think about the last one right now,” you quickly interrupted, shooting your dad a soft smile.

“Y/N!” You heard your mom’s voice shout from down the hall.

“Yeah, mom!? In here!”

“Y/N,” your mom began as she stopped in the doorway looking entirely out of breath, “Y/N, the usher had car trouble and one of your brother’s groomsmen got the stomach flu which means that I need to find someone to tell people where to sit and the groomsman to bridesmaid ratio is going to be off and it’s going to look _ridiculous_ when they walk down the aisle and –”

“Honey, take a breath,” your dad interrupted, making his way over to your mother who genuinely looked like she was about to keel over and die from a heart attack. The woman hated when things went even slightly wrong. Especially things that she had spent months meticulously planning.

“I can’t calm down! This might be the only wedding I get to take part in!” Your mom snapped, turning her attention to you before continuing. “I might be dead before you get married!”

“I see you have a lot of faith in Dean, then,” you retorted. You knew she was just in the midst of a small panic attack, and she didn’t mean anything that was coming out of her mouth, so you pushed down the irritation that had begun to rise inside you.

“Oh, Dean! Dean, yes!” Your mom exclaimed, as if she had forgotten that he had existed altogether, “Dean will be filling in for the missing groomsman, you can walk down the aisle with him. Can you do that? It doesn’t matter, you’re doing it.”

“Mom, I don’t know if –”

“He’ll be fine,” she interrupted you, checking her watch in a panic, “Oh, damn, someone needs to usher! I can’t, I have –”

You took a deep breath before cutting her off. “I’ll do it, mom. Don’t worry.” You knew that one day your niceness was going to come back to bite you in the ass – in fact, it already has, many times – but clearly your mom needed the help. The woman was about to explode.

“Oh, Y/N, honey, thank you. C’mon, I’ll give you the run down,” she said, relief in her voice as she grabbed you by the wrist and began dragging you out of the room. As you passed your dad on the way out, he mouthed a “thank you”. You had always been his favorite; probably for the way that you always knew how to calm your mother down.

“Gilmore… Gilmore… you guys are on the third row on the left!” You said, checking the seating chart that your mom had provided for you. You were beginning to sweat in the August heat, but the seats were almost all filled up so you knew you were going to be finished soon. You quickly pulled out your phone in a moment of free time, checking to see if Dean was on his way yet. You saw that he had texted you that he was heading out about 15 minutes ago, which meant that you had to wait at least another 15 before you saw his gorgeous face. You smiled as you re-read your text messages from earlier that morning, when a voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Um, should be under Miller,” you heard the voice say. It was a voice that made your breath hitch in your throat and your stomach turn. You slowly looked up from your phone, hoping that you were imagining it, hoping that you had remembered his voice wrong. As your eyes reached the face of the man standing in front of you, you suddenly felt the urge to vomit. Nick. Your fucking ex. Yep, _that_ one.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You managed to get out as your nausea began to mix with intense anger.

He chuckled. “Not happy to see me?”

Fucking dick. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” You repeated.

“Turns out that Ms. Miller here,” he nodded towards the blonde who was attached to his side, “is a cousin of the bride! I’m her plus one. Small world, huh?”

“Too fucking small,” you replied, trying to figure out where the hell they were sitting so you could make your way to the bathroom to ride your stomach of its contents. “Seventh row on the left,” you stated, not looking up from the seating chart.

“Thanks, Y/N/N. Good to see you again,” Nick replied. You waited for the two of them to take their seats before looking around for anyone who could take your place. Jack, your brother’s best friend, ended up walking past you and you caught him by his arm and handed him the seating chart.

“Take over for me real quick. I need to go to the bathroom.”

“But I –”

“Jack, I _need_ to go to the bathroom,” you reiterated. He nodded, thinking that he understood that you needed to go because of “lady stuff”. Nope, you just needed to vomit your guts out.

**DEAN’S POV**

Dean practically jogged from his car to the venue, knowing that he was about to be considered late if he didn’t pick up the pace. Traffic was worse than he had expected. As he got to the ceremony area, he felt relieved as there were still a few more people who were taking their seats. He recognized the usher as Jack; the man-child who looked like he wasn’t old enough to drink from St. Patrick’s Day. Scanning the crowd, he couldn’t spot Y/N, so he decided to just take his seat.

“Hey, I think it should be under Winchester… unless it’s under Y/L/N,” he said as he approached Jack. The man looked up at him, a face of realization appearing.

“You’re Y/N’s boyfriend, right?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Dean replied. The title of “boyfriend” always caught him off guard.

“Great, she’s been in the bathroom for about ten minutes, can you go get her? She was supposed to be doing this,” Jack said, holding up the seating chart, “but grabbed me and told me she had to go.”

“Oh, um… sure. And the bathroom is…?”

“That building, second door on the left once you walk in,” Jack said, nodding towards the building to the left of him. Dean nodded his thanks and started to make his way there.

**Y/N’S POV**

You steadied yourself over the one of the bathroom sinks, begging yourself not to cry. You couldn’t ruin your make up. You hated it; this hold that he had over you. The way that the mere sight of him made you want to throw up yesterday’s dinner. He made your skin crawl. You hadn’t spoken to him in about a year, but you hadn’t seen him in longer. Nick. You winced at the name. You felt the blood rush to your face as your stomach turned again, threatening to get rid of its contents the longer you stood there. You looked at yourself in the mirror as certain memories of your past relationship started rushing back.

_“The fuck you looking at yourself so long for? You have no reason to be so fucking conceited.”_

_“You get mad at me for cheating on you, for making mistakes!? They’re fucking mistakes, Y/N! You make them every goddamn day.”_

_“You ask me why I cheat… well, to be honest, you’re not the prettiest girl are you? You’re my best friend, but I really can’t stand looking at your face when we fuck.”_

You ran to the stall behind you and fell to your knees, retching and gagging over the toilet until the breakfast you had earlier that day ended up in it. You let out a sob, not caring if you ruined your makeup, not caring if you didn’t look pretty anymore; you weren’t anyways. He made sure you knew that. Your relationship with Nick was so much worse than what you had told Dean. All the cheating was true, and sometimes, he really was the perfect boyfriend. But there was so much manipulation, so much psychological warfare, so much uncertainty, and so much abuse – everything short of physical, thank God. You leaned against the stall wall, sobbing into your hands, the bitter taste of vomit still fresh in your mouth. You only stopped when you heard a soft knock at the door.

“Um, Y/N? It’s Dean. You in here?” You heard Dean’s voice ask. You had to say something; you had to reply. He couldn’t see you like this.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’ll be out in a second,” you managed, although your voice was weak.

“You okay?” He asked, the looming threat of him opening the door and seeing you like this was the only thing making you reply.

“Mhm, yeah,” you said, your voice cracking a little as much as you tried to sound okay.

“You don’t sound okay. I’m coming in,” he stated, and you heard the door knob turn.

“No, really, I’m –,” you began, but it was too late. Before you knew it, Dean was towering over you, and you were staring up at him from the bathroom floor.

“Y/N, what –”

“Go away, Dean,” you said, pulling your knees into your chest as you broke eye contact and chose to stare at the stall wall in front of you as silent tears made their way down your face. Dean’s eyes traveled to the toilet and then back to you before he squatted down in front of you.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” He asked gently, softly touching your arm. You flinched at his touch and he instantly pulled away. “Y/N?” He asked again.

You took a deep, shaky breath. “He’s here.”

“Who’s here?”

“My ex… N-Nick,” you sobbed, hating the fact that you ever dated him in the first place. Dean sat down fully next to you.

“Y/N –”

“Please, go away Dean. I’m – look at me. You d-don’t want to see me like this, just let me c-cry it out,” you practically begged, having a feeling that it wasn’t going to work. Dean just sat there for a moment, letting you have a few sobs to yourself, before speaking again.

“What’d he do to you, sweetheart? I mean all of it. What’s the whole story?” He finally said.

You looked at him; you could feel the streaks of mascara staining your cheeks. “I can’t,” you sobbed, as you shook your head. “There’s w-way more to t-tell than what I t-told you but I can’t right n-now.” You threw yourself into Dean’s chest and he wrapped his arms around you, rubbing circles on your back as he hushed you softly.

“That’s okay. That’s okay, I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

A few minutes passed of the two of you just sitting there on the cold tile of the bathroom floor. You had managed to cry it all out, and you were now onto the slow heavy breathing portion of your breakdown as you tried your best to collect yourself. The both of you were startled by a harsh knock on the door.

“Y/N!? You’re walking down the aisle in five! Do NOT be late! And Dean better be there, too!” You heard your mother’s voice yell, before the click of her heels dwindled down the hallway. You looked up at Dean who was already looking down at you, sympathy in his eyes. You nodded slowly to let him know that you were okay to get up, as much as you didn’t want to. He got up first, offering both of his hands out to you which you took before he pulled you to your feet. He led you over to the sinks which were built into a long counter top and lifted you up on top of it gently. He stood between your legs and leaned over to grab some paper towels from the dispenser, wetting them slightly under the motion-sensor spout. No words were said between the two of you as he took the damp towels to your face, gently scrubbing out the mascara that had left black streaks on your cheeks. You simply just stared at the man in front of you, as he wiped away all the hurt and the pain that the man behind you had caused. His tongue darted out between his lips as he concentrated on making you look presentable to the public again, and when he was satisfied with his work, he tossed the wet paper towels in the trashcan beside him without taking a step. He cupped your face in his hands, the pads of his thumbs running over the places that mascara had been only moments before.

“Good as new,” he smiled, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a moment to look at you; really look at you. It seemed as though he was scanning over all your features. “You are so damn beautiful.”

You let out a soft chuckle, your voice a bit hoarse from your mental collapse. “I sure don’t feel like it.”

“You will one day,” he reassured you gently.

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m going to make you see yourself the way I see you if it’s the last damn thing I do.”

You felt better after Dean had comforted you, but you were still slightly queasy and you knew that you’d be seeing more of Nick as the night went on. Knowing him, he’d ignore the blonde on his arm all night if it meant that he could get a moment alone to torment you. He blamed you for your break up, claiming that it was just as hard for him as it was for you, that he lost his best friend, too. As much as you knew that wasn’t the case, as much as you knew that he was a manipulative and delusional asshole, a part of you still felt guilty. For giving up. For not giving him another chance. You knew nothing would have changed, but this is where your empathy and niceness got you in trouble. You tended to let people use you as a doormat, and you didn’t know when to draw the line. It’s not that you couldn’t stand up for yourself; it was that you very strongly believed in second and third and fourth, or in Nick’s case, twentieth chances – even when it bit you in the ass. You knew that’s why you were being so annoyingly cautious with Dean; you were trying not to put yourself in another situation where you’d be used and abused. But after seeing the effect that Nick had on you, you were beginning to wonder if you were meant to be in a relationship at all. If maybe even fake dating was a little too much for you at the moment.

As the music began playing, groomsmen and bridesmaids began to filter out of the building, arm in arm. You and Dean were to go third, and you felt as though you were about to have another panic attack. You knew you were about to see Nick’s face again, and at the same time you were overwhelmed with conflict about your feelings for Dean. You tightened your grip on Dean’s bicep to steady yourself; you weren’t going to be the one to ruin this wedding, and you had to make it down the aisle whether you wanted to or not.

“You good?” Dean whispered, feeling the grip you had on his arm.

You nodded. “Mhm, yeah. Fine,” you lied.

The two of you began to take your first steps out of the building, a fake smile plastered on your face. You somehow made your way through the grass in heels and on shaky legs, doing your best to keep your eyes away from the seventh row on the left where you knew _he_ was sitting. Dean was practically the only thing holding you up by the time you reached the front of the aisle, where he had to let you go so you could each take your spots on either side of the archway that stood over the altar. You were instinctively scanning the crowd when your eyes fell on _him_. He shot you a wink and your stomach churned. You glanced over at Dean, who gave you a nod and a reassuring smile. A smile that said, “I’m here”. You nodded back in thanks as your future sister-in-law came walking down the aisle. Thank God, something to focus on other than your dick of an ex-boyfriend in the seventh row on the left…

The initial ceremony went by quickly, as both the groom and the bride didn’t have much patience, were young, and just wanted to party. You didn’t blame them; you probably wouldn’t want to be bored to death at your own wedding either, which at this point was probably never going to occur. The reception was in full swing now, and you were sat with Dean at the bar in silence, sipping on a margarita. You knew he didn’t know what to say to you, which was fine, because you didn’t really feel much like talking. You had lost sight of Nick in the crowd somewhere, but just the thought of him being here made your skin crawl.

“There you are, sweetheart!” You heard your dad say from behind you over the loud music. You turned around and smiled, happy for a moment where you could focus on introducing Dean to your dad and vice-versa, instead of Nick who was probably stalking you from the dance floor.

“Hey, Dad! This is Dean,” you said, as your dad came up to you. You tilted your head in Dean’s direction, who was sat beside you. He immediately stood up and offered your dad his hand.

“Hello, sir,” he said, and you giggled at his formality. You watched as your dad took his hand and shook it firmly.

“Nice handshake, son,” he complimented, before flagging down the bar tender and ordering a glass of whiskey. “Y/N, do you mind if I steal him away for a moment? Just got to do my duty as a dad,” he winked, taking the whiskey from the barkeep. You slid off your barstool; you had been meaning to get some AC anyway. The summer heat was no joke, even after the sun had gone down. A proposal at Thanksgiving, an outdoor venue in August… maybe you’d have to check your brother into a mental asylum one of these days.

“Yeah, I’m gotta run to the bathroom anyway,” you said, placing a warning finger on your dad’s chest before adding, “be nice.”

“No promises,” he replied with a chuckle, and you rolled your eyes before making your way to the restroom.

**DEAN’S POV**

“So, how long have you two been together?” Y/N’s dad asked Dean as he took the seat that had been Y/N’s at the bar. Dean made sure to give the man his undivided attention, placing his beer on the bar top.

“We met at a New Year’s Eve party, actually,” Dean lied, “And we’ve just gotten along really well ever since.”

Dean watched as the man nodded, taking in what Dean had said. “And what are your intentions with my daughter?”

Dean gulped. Man, this guy just got straight to the point. “To make her happy,” Dean replied simply, not having to even think twice about it. That’s all he wanted to do; make Y/N happy.

“You reckon you do that?”

“I hope so, sir,” Dean replied, feeling his nerves creep up on him as he began to sweat even more than he already was.

“I haven’t been the best father, Dean. I should have been there for her far more than I was. I should be there for her far more than I am. I don’t want her to marry anyone like me, understand? What do you do for a living?”

Dean was caught off guard by marriage being thrown into the conversation. Even if he did think he wanted to eventually marry Y/N, that was so far off into the distance he hadn’t really properly thought about it. “I, um,” Dean stopped to clear his throat, “I work at a Chevy dealership.”

“I don’t trust car salesmen.”

“You’d be right not to,” Dean chuckled before adding, “but, no sir, I’m a mechanic.”

“Now that, I can respect. What’s your plan for your future? You plan on working at this dealership forever?”

“No, sir. I want to start up my own shop one day. I’m currently saving up for that,” Dean explained.

Y/N’s dad nodded as he took a sip of his drink. “You’re ambitious,” he stated. “Good. Y/N needs that. Girl’s got heart but not the motivation… I can tell you make her happy.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked, trying to keep the smile on his face from spreading.

“I can hear it in her tone when she talks now. She sounds happier. Now, I know my daughter, and I know she might not realize a good thing when it’s right in front of her – or a bad thing, for that matter, but we won’t get into that – but if she starts havin’ doubts or givin’ you any trouble for no reason at all… don’t give up on her. Stubborn as a bull, that one. But I can tell that you’re good for her. I can tell that you love her. You’re a good man, Dean.”

Dean beamed, not even phased by the “L” bomb that was dropped. Because in all honesty, he did love her. He felt it in every fiber of his being when he looked at her. “Thank you, sir.”

“Please, call me Jim,” he replied, holding out his glass. Dean smiled and clinked it with his beer bottle before they both downed the rest of their drinks.

**Y/N’S POV**

You made your way out of the bathroom slowly, wanting to relish in the air conditioning as long as you could. You hoped that your dad wasn’t being too harsh on Dean, as he tended to be in situations like these, although you were fully confident that Dean could hold his ground. As you pulled open the bathroom door and crossed the threshold into the hallway, your thoughts about Dean and your dad were violently interrupted as you felt an arm wrap around your shoulders and a hand cover your mouth, pulling you back into the restroom that you had just stepped out of. You instantly began to thrash, trying everything to free the grip that the man had on you. You were suddenly turned around pushed up against the wall, and you came face-to-face with your assaulter. Nick.

“Shh! Shh, don’t scream,” he said as you calmed down, although your drinks from tonight were threatening to come back up. He slowly removed his hand from your mouth and a shaky breath fell from your lips.

“What are you doing?” You asked, an unsettling feeling rising in the pit of your stomach. It wasn’t nausea this time, it was something else. It was like you knew that whatever Nick’s next move would be, it wouldn’t be good.

“Y/N/N, I missed you,” he hummed, as he trapped you against the wall, one of his arms on either side of your shoulders. It was then that you could smell the alcohol on him and noticed his unsteadiness and slurred words; he was absolutely shit faced. One would think that this would make the situation easier for you to get out of, but you’ve been around Nick when he’s drunk enough to know that he doesn’t get any nicer… and he’s already quite a dick when he’s stone-cold sober. You gulped as he got closer to you, his face inches away from yours. You wanted to knee him in the balls and run, but you couldn’t. You were frozen with fear from what could happen next. From what your gut was telling you was about to happen next. “You always gave me so many chances, Y/N. Why’d you do that?” He slurred, moving his hand to tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

“Because I was stupid. Because I loved you,” you replied, trying your best to hold back tears. You couldn’t let him see you cry. “Please, Nick… please let me go.”

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, you stupid girl,” he began, leaning in close to your ear before continuing in a whisper, “not until I fuck you one last time,” he growled, spinning you around roughly, your face coming into the contact with the cold tile wall. You let out a sob; you were too scared to scream. You were too scared to move. Nick pushed your head into the wall with his hand as he tried unbuckling his pants with the other. “All these years, and I still don’t want to look at your face when I fuck you,” he commented. You shut your eyes tightly as fresh tears burned your cheeks. Then, you heard it; your saving grace. A knock at the door.

“Y/N? You in there?”

You screamed as loud as you could, knowing who it was. “DEAN, HELP ME!”

“Y/N?” Dean yelled back, his voice one of panic as he heard your distress call. You heard the doorknob jiggle violently. “Y/N, IT’S LOCKED!”

Nick must’ve locked it without you noticing. “DEAN!” You yelled again, hoping to stress the urgency of the situation. “DE –”

You were interrupted by Nick’s hand covering your mouth before you could continue. He had pulled you into him; you were flush with his body now and you could feel his erection poke at your backside through his halfway unzipped pants. Both of you watched the door rattle as you assumed that Dean was throwing his bodyweight against it to get it open. _BOOM. BOOM. BOOM._ Finally, the door gave in and Dean came crashing through it, steadying himself before looking up at the sight in front of him.

**DEAN’S POV**

Y/N was in tears being held by whom he assumed was Nick; he had saw the same man wink at her during the ceremony.

“Let her go,” Dean commanded as he clenched his fists at his side.

“Why? You want a turn at her?” He slurred. Dean took a deep breath as he realized that the man was drunk; it wouldn’t be a fair fight.

Dean glared at him, a fury in his eyes that he had hoped Y/N would never have had to see. He took a few moments to think, trying to figure out how to get Y/N out of harms way before he beat the man in front of him to a pulp. Finally, an idea came to his head. “Y/N, look at me,” he gently commanded, making sure that Y/N was giving him his full attention. Y/N locked eyes with him, letting him know that she was listening.

 _On the count of three, step on his foot and throw your head back as hard as you can. Then run_ , Dean signed, hoping that Y/N understood everything. Y/N tried her best to nod in return to let him know that she did.

“What the hell did he just say?” Nick asked, tightening his grip on Y/N. “You know I don’t speak sign language, Y/N. Tell me what he said,” he hissed.

Dean and Y/N didn’t break their eye contact, and instead Dean nodded slightly to let her know to begin counting. _Three, two, one_ , Dean counted in his head, before yelling, “NOW!”

Y/N jammed the heel of her shoe into Nick’s foot and threw her head back into his chin as hard as she could in one swift motion.

“AH, fuck!” Nick yelped, releasing his grip on her to grab at his chin. Y/N took the opportunity to run to the bathroom door, standing a few feet behind Dean.

“Y/N, leave,” Dean demanded, keeping his eyes on Nick. Y/N didn’t move. He could still feel her presence behind him. “Now, Y/N!”

**Y/N’S POV**

“I’m not going anywhere,” you replied, standing your ground. You didn’t want anyone to die tonight, and you had a feeling that if you left, someone would, and it wasn’t going to be Dean.

“You BITCH!” Nick yelled, as he processed what you had done to him and began making his way towards you in a fit of rage.

“You stay the _hell_ away from her,” Dean snarled as you watched him push on Nick’s chest, causing him to stumble backwards. “YOU HEAR ME?” Dean asked, his anger rising, as he began making his way towards the drunk man. “Don’t you _ever_ –” _WHACK_ , “fucking _touch_ her –” _WHACK_.

“Dean!” You shouted from the corner, knowing that two punches were probably enough. Nick was drunk and it wasn’t a fair fight.

“Again!” _CRACK._ Dean shook his fist out as the anger slowly left him. Nick was on the floor, knocked out cold; his face covered in blood. You stood there, your mouth agape, not knowing what to say or do. Dean turned to face you, a pleading look in his eyes. “Y/N –”

“Dean… I think you broke his nose,” was all you could bring yourself to say as you made your way over to Nick’s still body on the floor.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ hope so,” Dean replied, looking down at you in confusion as you tried lightly slapping Nick’s face a few times to wake him up.

“Dean, he’s out cold!” You exclaimed; your voice lined with disbelief.

“ _Good_.”

“No, not good!” You said as you stood up, your hands on your hips, “Because you know who’s going to get blamed for this mess? ME! We’re gonna have to call an ambulance to my brother’s wedding because my ex tried to fucking rape me and my date got a little too carried away with the fighting!”

Dean stared at you, dumbfounded. “You can’t possibly be mad at me for this!?” He asked, motioning to the blood-covered man on the floor.

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT I AM, DEAN!” You yelled, all your emotions from the day hitting you like a tsunami. It was all too much.

“Y/N, he would have –”

“YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT?”

“SO, HE GOT WHAT WAS COMING TO HIM!”

“DON’Y YOU FUCKING YELL AT ME!” You screamed, knowing full well that you couldn’t handle anyone yelling at you right now. Dean took a few steps closer to you and you took a few steps back, stopping as your back hit the door. You had never seen Dean the way he was right now. His knuckles were bruised and Nick’s blood was staining his white dress shirt in small splatters. He looked absolutely furious, and although you knew that his anger wasn’t because of you, you couldn’t help but feel like your reaction to him beating the shit out of Nick had rubbed him the wrong way.

“He was going to hurt you, Y/N. You were screaming for help. He was fucking HOLDING you, his hand over your MOUTH!” Dean reiterated as he took another step towards you. You watched as Dean’s chest heaved in anger.

“You didn’t have to BREAK HIS NOSE!” You retorted. You didn’t know why you were defending Nick. Had Dean not shown up… you didn’t want to think about what would have happened. You glanced at your ex-boyfriend again. You didn’t think that Dean had this kind of anger in him, and honestly, it scared you a little. You knew that he was just protecting you, and you were grateful for the fact that he showed up, but… he broke a man’s nose and knocked him out cold. Dean kept inching towards you; he was about a foot away now. You could feel your heart about to beat out of your chest as he came closer.

“Do you think I _meant_ to break his fucking nose? I didn’t. But he was going to hurt you! Please tell me you know that he was going to hurt you. Please tell me you see why I had to break his goddamn nose. I’ll break a few more bones of his, too, no problem, if he ever fucking _touches_ you again. He doesn’t deserve your sympathy, Y/N. It is not your job to love everyone! It’s not your job to take care of everyone!” Dean exclaimed; his tone more pleading than anything else, as he took another step closer to you. His face was inches away from yours. “I’m sorry if I scared you,” Dean whispered, his expression soft now, “but he was going to hurt you. And I – I won’t let anyone hurt you, Y/N, you gotta know that. I love you too much to let anyone hurt you.”

Your breath hitched as you processed what Dean had said. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t flinch. He just simply told you he loved you. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes again as a new emotion was added to the already overflowing cup of emotions that you were feeling. Did you love him, too? You wouldn’t know. You wouldn’t know what true, healthy love feels like. You gulped as your eyes met with Dean’s. You saw his green orbs dart to your lips quickly, and you were nauseous yet again. You wanted to kiss him so badly, but you knew you shouldn’t. You knew you had a lot to figure out. A lot to think about. A kiss on top of _this_ day… you wouldn’t be able to handle it.

“I, um,” you began, trying to think of something to say as you continued to stare into Dean’s eyes. “I – I…”

“You what?” Dean egged on in the gentlest way.

“I gotta go.”


	7. Chapter Seven

**_Labor Day Weekend_ **

**_Saturday_ **

**DEAN’S POV**

“You really haven’t spoken to her since?” Sam asked, taking a sip of his beer. The brothers were sitting in Dean’s backyard near the firepit, catching up on the events of the last month.

“Not since she told me she needed some space. I broke her ex-boyfriend’s nose and then I told her I loved her; I’d be a bit surprised if she wasn’t freaked out. You know how I get when I’m angry,” Dean sighed as he bounced his leg which was propped up on the edge of the fire pit.

“So, what? Are you guys broken up or…?” Sam questioned, reminding Dean that his brother never knew that him and Y/N weren’t really ever together in the first place.

“I don’t know what we are… I haven’t spoken to her in a few weeks. I don’t want to seem like I’m too attached or something.”

Sam chuckled and shook his head. “Didn’t you tell me about some plan you had to take her out of town this weekend?”

Dean took a deep breath as he was reminded of what he had planned to be doing right about now. After the wedding, he had _planned_ to ask Y/N out on a “half ‘n’ half” date, as he had started calling it in his head. Half “holidate”, half not. The holiday was Labor Day, but the weekend was supposed to be spent at Bobby’s lake house. Just him and Y/N. It sounded ridiculous, the thought of it now. The thought that she was anywhere near ready to spend a weekend alone with Dean when they hadn’t even _kissed_ for real yet. Dean shook his head and took a sip of his beer. “Yeah, Bobby gave me the keys to his lake house for the weekend… supposed to be heading that way right about now.”

“What the hell are you doing sitting here then?” Sam questioned.

Dean looked up at his brother, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Dean, do I have to spell it out for you? Go to her house, tell her to pack a bag, and _take her_. She loves you, too. Even if she doesn’t realize it yet.”

“Yeah? And how would you know?” Dean demanded, getting a bit irritated at Sam for thinking he knew Y/N better than him.

“Fourth of July… I heard it in the way she talked about you. I saw it in the way she looked at you. Eileen could tell, too. Don’t give up on her, dude.” Dean sighed. He wanted nothing more than to do exactly what Sam had suggested, but the fear of everything going wrong, of losing Y/N forever, was keeping his ass in his chair. Sam tilted his head forward and raised his eyebrows at his brother, shooting Dean a, “well, what are you waiting for?” look. “You guys have been together for _months_. It’s not like I’m suggesting you do something that any other boyfriend wouldn’t do. Get up off your ass and go _get her_.”

**Y/N’S POV**

You groaned as your alarm rang for the seventh time today. It was Saturday, and Monday was a holiday, which meant all you felt like doing was sleeping and drinking and drinking and sleeping… all weekend long. You hadn’t spoken to Dean in a few weeks, telling him you needed space to work things out, to think about how you truly felt. The wedding night ended with an ambulance being called for Nick, although the rest of the wedding party was thankfully too drunk to notice the commotion. Dean had dropped you off at home that night, and it was the last time you saw him, telling him you needed a week or two to yourself. Now it had been almost three weeks with no word from him, and you were getting the feeling that he had just gotten fed up with your indecisiveness. You couldn’t blame him; you had baggage, and a lot of it. He had given you ample time to work through it all, and honestly, you should be over it all by now. Nick was a bastard, he deserved everything that Dean gave him that night and more, no matter how thrown off you were by it. But more than that, when Dean had told you he loved you, your urge to say it back was stronger than anything you’d ever felt before. You knew, not-so deep down, that you loved him, too. You knew it three weeks ago when he knocked Nick out and you knew it now. You hated yourself for being so cautious. You hated yourself for needing to “sort out your feelings” or whatever lame reason you had told him you needed space for. And now it was 1:00PM on a Saturday and you had yet to get out of bed because you felt truly and genuinely empty for the first time since Dean Winchester came into your life. You had thought about shooting him a text at least 100 times over, but you couldn’t figure out a way to word it right. Besides, what if he was over you? What if he didn’t really mean the “I love you”? People say it without meaning it all the time… it could have just been an in the moment thing. You groaned as you grabbed the pillow next you and placed it over your face, letting out a muffled frustrated scream. How could you be so stupid? You’re too nice, you get screwed. You’re too cautious, you get screwed. There was really no winning for you. You laid there for a few more minutes after promising yourself you’d get out of bed once you were done with your little pity party, but you were interrupted by a loud knock on the door before you could finish enjoying your last few minutes under the sheets. You let out an irritable sigh as you finally pulled yourself out of bed, grabbing your robe which was hanging on your standing mirror and slipping it over your mostly naked body – you usually only ever slept in underwear. You tied the robe around you as you made your way to the front door, too tired to peer through the peephole, assuming that it was just a package that you needed to sign for. You wiped the sleep from your eyes as you opened the door, doing a double take as the last person you expected to see was standing in front of you.

“Dean?” You asked, as if you needed confirmation that it was really him.

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiled sheepishly, like he wasn’t expecting you to open the door.

“What are you doing here?” You questioned, a little snappier than you intended, but he did just force you out of bed after making you think that he wanted nothing to do with you anymore. Or, was that your fault for asking for so much time alone? You didn’t care. You were happy to see him regardless, though you were trying not to show it. You couldn’t seem too eager. Or is that what he wanted? Ugh, you were overthinking everything now.

“Oh, I – um, well,” Dean began, struggling to find the words, before finally settling on, “Sam made me.”

You felt your heart sink a little. So, he didn’t actually _want_ to be here. He was here because his brother _made_ him. “Why?”

“I – uh – um, look, Y/N, I had this whole thing planned out before the wedding, that I was going to ask you out on a date this weekend,” he began, staring at the floor as he spoke, “and then you asked for space and time and I didn’t know when you were going to want me around again. And so, I was talkin’ to Sammy about it and he just told me to get over myself and come over here. Which I can see now was a bad idea and I should know better than to listen to Sam of all people, but –”

“It wasn’t a bad idea,” you interrupted.

Dean looked up at you. “No?”

You shook your head. “Dean… I have not stopped thinking about you. God, it’s like… it’s like no matter how hard I try you’re just there. Always there, in my head. You have been so kind to me these past few months. So patient with me as I figure out a way through all my baggage and I cannot thank you enough. I thought… I thought that you were done with me, honestly. I thought that I may have just pushed you a little too far, being so indecisive… and then what happened with Nick… God, I am so sorry if I ever made you feel for even a second that you did the wrong thing. Because that fucking asshole deserved it. I was just so caught off guard,” you rambled. Dean just stood there silently, watching you and listening intently as you continued spewing every thought that had come to you over the last three weeks, “I’ve had time to think about you. About us. About what I want, about what I’m ready for. Dean… I…,” you watched as Dean stared at you, a glimmer of hope and excitement in his eyes for what you were about to say. Those three words that you knew you felt. You weren’t ready yet. Feeling it is one thing, but saying it? Saying it makes it _real_. “… I am just so glad you’re here.” You watched Dean’s features soften a bit as he tried to hide his disappointment from you. “Do you want to come in? I’ll make coffee?” You offered.

“It’s 1:00 PM,” he chuckled, stepping over the threshold as you closed the door behind him.

“I know, I know, don’t judge me,” you sighed, as you made your way to the kitchen, Dean right behind you. “It’s been a rough month,” you added, as you turned on your coffee maker. Dean took a seat on one of the counter’s barstools.

“Y/N…,” Dean began cautiously, as you took two mugs out of the cabinet above the coffee machine. You placed them on the counter in front of you before giving Dean your full attention. “I am sorry… for everything.”

“Dean, you don’t have to –”

“No, let me finish. I shouldn’t have snapped at you after your reaction to what I did to Nick. I wasn’t thinking straight, I was angry, and I realize now why you reacted the way you did. I know I don’t know the full story about what that asshole did to you, but –”

“Do you want to know?” You asked as the coffee maker beeped, letting you know that it was about to start filling the pitcher.

“Only if you’re ready to tell me,” Dean replied softly. You nodded as you thought about it for a minute. It was something he needed to know. It was something you were going to have to tell him eventually. The last month had emotionally drained you, and you figured it was as good of a time as any. You didn’t have it in you to cry; you were quite literally on empty.

“Alright,” you sighed, as the coffee maker beeped again, and you took the full pitcher from its stand before asking, “Creamer?”

Dean shook his head. “No, I’m good, thank you.” You filled his mug to the brim and pushed it towards him, before filling your mug halfway. You turned around and opened the fridge to take out some vanilla creamer, filling the rest of your mug with it. “I see you like your creamer with a splash of coffee,” Dean chuckled.

“I see you like your coffee bitter and disgusting,” you teased back. He rolled his eyes and took a sip as you came around the counter with your mug and took a seat next to him. “I think I’m ready to tell you everything, if you’re sure you want to know,” you said, before taking a sip of your coffee and setting it down on the countertop in front of you.

“I’m sure,” Dean reassured you, setting his mug down as well and turning his body to face you, letting you know that he had your full attention. You played with the handle of your mug as you thought about where you should start. Dean was quiet as he waited patiently for you to begin. You could feel his eyes on you, but you continued to stare at your mug. Truth be told, you hadn’t told anyone about how bad it had really been between you and Nick. Not even your best friends. You didn’t know where to start, or where to go, or where to end. Your entire relationship with him was a blur. One big fat miserable blur, except for the parts that were perfect, which were clear as day. You cleared your throat before deciding to start with the good parts, for they were the memories that kept you leashed to him for so long.

“One time, he took me on a picnic date. We were probably only dating for a few months or so, but it was perfect. The weather, the food… _he_ was perfect. We laughed and kissed and talked… and life was good. And I let myself fall. And I let him all the way in,” you began, reminiscing on the short time before it all went to hell before continuing. “There was another time, after he cheated on me for the second time… took me out stargazing in the bed of his truck. The sky was clear as it could be. He was pointing out all the constellations to me, like he had studied them just for that date. He was kind, sweet, loving… he made me feel like he was sincerely sorry. Like he wouldn’t hurt me again,” you paused to take a sip of your coffee, and then you stared down at your drink for a few seconds longer before continuing, “… but he did. He used to blame me for his mistakes… told me that I was too ugly to be the only girl that he could fuck. He’d only ever have sex with me from behind, too. Claimed he didn’t want to look at my face,” you said, flinching at the echo of his words in your head from the night of the wedding. “He would constantly gaslight me… make me feel like _I_ was the crazy one, like I had no reason to be upset with him, no matter what he did,” you continued, your voice monotone as you stared at your coffee mug in front of you. It was hard to talk about it out loud, but you hadn’t yet felt the urge to explode into tears, so it was going better than expected. “When he got drunk… he got worse. Granted, nothing like what happened at the wedding had ever happened before, thank God, but he was malicious. He would just verbally beat me to a pulp. I wasn’t okay, those few years we were together. I wasn’t sleeping, I was barely eating… he was chipping away at every part of me. And he kept his hold on me because of the little moments of good mixed in with all the bad. And so, when I saw him that day… at the wedding… everything just came back up. I had never talked about it fully, with anyone. I had never really processed just how badly he had hurt me,” you finished, finally looking up at Dean. He was looking at you with a soft expression on his face. One full of love and sadness at the same time. He placed is hand on top of yours and squeezed it gently, a reassuring gesture that eased your nerves a little bit. You looked back down at your coffee mug, watching the liquid inside swirl around.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice soft and low. You turned your head to look at him through your eyelashes, still slightly uncomfortable about having shared your dark past in such detail. “You are the strongest person I know. You… I… I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he continued. You nodded without looking all the way up at him, and he moved his hand from the top of yours to your chin, his thumb and pointer finger lifting your face to look at him. “You are… amazing. Do you hear me? Whatever that asshole has made you believe about yourself… you are the opposite. Y/N, you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Inside and out. I know its cliché but I mean it… thank you for telling me all of that.”

You took a deep breath as you felt the waterworks come on out of nowhere. You had truly thought that you didn’t have it in you to cry anymore; but these weren’t tears of sadness. You were just feeling what it felt like to be loved properly for the first time. It was overwhelming. A tear rolled down your cheek and Dean swiftly wiped it away. You laughed softly as he did so.

“Why are you laughin’?” He said through a breathy chuckle.

“You seem to be doing a lot of wiping my tears off my face lately,” you giggled through a sob. Dean smiled at you as he cupped your face in his hands.

“Call me your professional tear wiper,” he joked, pulling your head towards him so he could plant a soft kiss on your forehead. You took his hands in yours as you pulled your head away from him, your eyes meeting with his.

“How are you even real?” You asked in disbelief as you swallowed down another sob. You were afraid that you would never stop crying, had you let all your happy tears flow.

Dean just shrugged; a cocky smirk plastered across his face. “I ask myself the same thing when I look in the mirror.”

You rolled your eyes and hit his bicep playfully, “You’re relentless.”

“You love it,” he retorted, his shit-eating grin still on display.

“I guess I’d have ditched you a few holidays ago if I didn’t,” you sniffled, adding a playful wink and taking a sip of your coffee. “Speaking of… you’re breaking a few rules by being here,” you added.

“Rules, shmules.” You raised your eyebrows at him, wondering what brought about this forward attitude. “Look,” he continued, “before everything happened, I had planned to ask you on a real date this weekend. Bobby gave me the keys to his lake house for the long weekend, and I was going to ask if you wanted to come with me. I know today and tomorrow technically aren’t holidays, but Monday’s Labor Day, and the whole weekend is technically called Labor Day Weekend, so I figured I could bend the rules a little bit. But, it would be just us, so I totally get if it’s too much too soon,” he finished.

“Hmmm,” you thought, as you took a sip of your coffee. You sniffled one last time as you came fully down from your happy cry. Dean watched you nervously as he waited for your verdict, which only made you want to drag out the decision that you had made almost instantly. “I suppose your logic makes sense…,” you said out loud, pretending like you were actually giving his offer some hard thought, “and God knows I could use a weekend away,” you continued, before finally placing your mug down and looking in Dean’s direction, “So, okay. Sounds like fun. But, we are _not_ sharing a bed, so don’t get any ideas,” you said, squinting and pointing an accusatory finger at him. It’s not that you didn’t _want_ to share a bed with Dean, but you knew it was probably best for you mentally if you took it slow. Although, spending the weekend alone with a man probably didn’t fall into the “taking it slow” category, but, whatever. You had to let yourself have at least a _little_ fun, and you trusted Dean not to push you to do anything you weren’t ready for.

“Really!?” Dean beamed, not even trying to hide his excitement. “Of course, I’ll take the guest room, but really!? You’ll come!?”

“I’m gonna go pack right now,” you smiled, downing the rest of your coffee and placing your mug down on the countertop before hopping off your barstool and heading to your room.

**DEAN’S POV**

Dean was both surprised and ecstatic that Y/N had agreed to come; he really had not expected her to accept his invitation at all. He reminded himself that she still needed a little space, and that just because _he_ dropped the L-bomb, she still had yet to do so, so he couldn’t start acting like they were a real couple just yet. He understood that she still needed some time to get comfortable with the idea, especially after learning everything about her past relationship. Y/N came out of her room a few minutes later, hair tied up in a pony tail, leggings and an AC/DC shirt on, a small duffle bag in her hand.

“Ready?” Dean asked, excitement in his tone as he hopped off the barstool.

“Ready,” Y/N smiled.

The drive to Bobby’s lake house was about two hours long. Dean had already packed a bag, silently thanking Sam in his head for making him do so before he left for Y/N’s. Dean’s place was in the opposite direction of Bobby’s and stopping there first would have added at least an hour onto their travel time. The drive was pretty peaceful so far, the quiet hum of Led Zeppelin coming through the Impala’s speakers. Y/N was nodding her head along to “Ramble On”, and Dean smiled as he glanced over at her. He could get used to this.

“Did you eat any breakfast?” Dean asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“No, I literally only crawled out of bed when I heard you knock on my door,” Y/N laughed, hoping that Dean wouldn’t judge her too hard.

“I figured,” Dean chuckled. “Well, I’ll make some breakfast when we get there. We got about an hour left.”

Y/N checked her phone for the time. “It’ll be 3:30 by the time we get there,” she stated.

Dean nodded. “Breakfast for lunch,” he shrugged.

“There’s a name for that, it’s brunch, and even so, 3:30 is pretty late for lunch,” she giggled.

“Pre-dinner breakfast, then,” Dean smiled.

“Sounds good to me.”

**Y/N’S POV**

Bobby’s lake house wasn’t small, to say the least. You began to wonder how much the Chevy dealership was paying the man… maybe you should get a job there, too. It was secluded just enough, on the edge of some woods on about an acre or two of land. The house itself looked like a huge, two-story, log cabin, and it backed right up to a dock which went out into the lake. The lake itself wasn’t all that secluded; you could see other lake houses from across the way, but the body of water was big enough to where you’d have to squint to make out any people on the other side. There were tall pine trees surrounding the lake, making it feel like you were really on some vacation in the wilderness. It was peaceful. It was perfect. You followed Dean inside as he unlocked the door, carrying both of the duffle bags with him. He stepped aside to let you through the door as he held it open for you with his foot, as he didn’t have any free hands.

“Dean, I can carry my own bag,” you said for the third time since exiting the car. Dean shook his head.

“No, no, I got it,” he reassured you, also for the third time. “Have a look around, make yourself comfortable, I’ll put your bag in your room.”

You nodded to let him know you heard him before he disappeared around a corner. Your mouth fell open slightly as you actually took in the interior of the place. The second floor was a giant loft, and from what you could see from where you were standing, there was a pool table, a small bar, and what seemed to be a projector screen. You stepped fully out of the entryway into the living room, able to see the dining room and breakfast nook from where you were standing. The couch backed up against a wall, on the other side of which was the kitchen. There were two hallways extending out from the living room, one on the left which was shorter and had one door, and one on the right which was long and had about four doors. The place looked much bigger from the outside – not to say that it was small by any means – but it still had a nice quaint feeling about it. It was still homey.

“So, what do you think?” Dean asked, as he appeared from around the corner. You were in the kitchen, peering out of a window above the sink that faced the lake.

“It’s wonderful,” you smiled, “I can’t wait to beat you at pool later.”

Dean chuckled. “We’ll see about that.”

“So… what’s for pre-dinner breakfast?” You asked, leaning against the counter.

“Hmmm,” Dean hummed, opening the fridge. “There’s bacon… cinnamon rolls…,” he began, closing the fridge and moving on to a nearby cabinet. “Oooh, pancake mix! Pancakes and bacon? How does that sound?” He asked, turning to face you.

“Perfect,” you replied before adding, “Do you think he has any chocolate chips?”

“He should… right around here…,” Dean said, as he began rummaging through the same cabinet. “Aha! Found ‘em. Man, I haven’t had chocolate chip pancakes in forever.”

“Well, step aside Winchester, you’re about to have the best pancakes of your life.”

You stirred the batter while Dean flipped the bacon next to you, letting a complaint out here and there about how you should rest after the month you’d had and that he knew how to make pancakes and he could seriously make breakfast himself. You rolled your eyes to each comment, reinstating that you _wanted_ to help, and that you very much enjoyed being in the kitchen with him. Once the batter was sufficiently stirred, you pulled out another pan from a bottom cabinet and set it on the stove next to Dean’s, where the bacon was frying.

“You know, one of the most vivid memories I have of my mom is her making chocolate chip pancakes every Saturday morning,” Dean smiled at the memory as he flipped a few more pieces of bacon. You poured your first pancake onto your pan and looked over at him.

“How old were you? When it all happened?” You asked gently, not wanting to pry, but it was a topic that hadn’t been discussed since it was mentioned all those months ago on St. Patrick’s Day.

“Four,” Dean said quietly, glancing over at you.

“Do you remember? The fire?”

“Bits and pieces. I remember my dad handing me Sam – he was only a few months old – and telling me to run. I remember the heat… I remember standing outside, holding Sammy, waitin’ for my dad to come out of the house with my mom… and then I remember seeing him come out, just him. I think even at four, I knew I wasn’t going to see her again, but I just didn’t know how to process those emotions.”

You nodded as you listened, watching as your pancake goldened on the edges before flipping it. “What else do you remember? About your mom?” You asked, wanting to know every single little thing about him.

Dean smiled at the question as he placed pieces of sizzling bacon on a nearby plate and added more raw bacon to his pan. “She’d always take me with her to tuck in Sam at night while my dad would stand in the doorframe and watch. She was so gentle… kind. Beautiful, too. And her and my dad… man they loved each other – I’ve never seen anything like it. He lost himself when she died…,” Dean trailed off, shaking his head. “But, yeah, I guess I don’t remember much, but everything I do remember about her… it’s all the good stuff,” he finished.

You smiled at Dean’s retelling of his mom as you put the first pancake on the plate next to you and poured another scoop of batter into your pan. “Do you ever… I don’t know… want to be a dad?” You asked hesitantly, knowing that it was kind of an intimate question, especially for someone who didn’t have a role model of a father.

Dean cocked an eyebrow at you, no doubt surprised by the question. “Yeah… someday. Someday I do,” he smiled, as if he was thinking about his future children. “What about you? Do you want to be a mom?”

You nodded as you flipped your pancake. “Yeah, someday,” you replied, biting back a smile as a million visions flashed through your mind of Dean as a dad. He’d be a great father. Certainly better than yours.

The rest of breakfast was made and eaten in a comfortable silence; sounds of chewing on chocolatey goodness being the only thing to interrupt the quiet. Dean was the first to get up when he was finished, and you started standing up as well, but Dean picked up your plate before you could leave your chair.

“You better not even think about it, sweetheart. I’ll do the dishes,” he said in a tone that was a cross between warning and playful. You glared at him.

“Dean, let me do something!” You sighed, frustrated with the fact that he wouldn’t let you lift a finger.

Dean let out a chuckle as he placed the dishes in the sink and checked his watch. It was 5:00 PM now. “You can go upstairs and set up the pool table if you want… and get ready to get your ass beat,” he grinned. You rolled your eyes.

“As if, Winchester. You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” you replied with a smirk.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what you said about Monopoly.”

“Yeah, and I won that!” You retorted.

“Did you?” Dean questioned, squinting at you playfully.

“Oh my – okay, fine. If I have to beat you, _again_ , at something else, I _will_. But if I do, you admit my Monopoly win!”

Dean laughed. “Deal,” he winked.

You had set up the pool table just in time; you heard the kitchen sink shut off below you and footsteps coming up the stairs as you positioned the cue ball.

“Alright, ready to get your ass handed to you?” Dean teased as he came up the stairs and grabbed a pool stick from the nearby stand.

“Not on the agenda tonight, I’m afraid,” you replied as you chalked up your stick. “Mind if I break?” You asked, glancing up at him from across the table.

“Not at all.”

**DEAN’S POV**

Dean watched her as she bent over the pool table and took her aim. He tried to ignore the breath hitching in his throat as his eyes roamed her body, dirty thoughts immediately flooding his brain. _Reign it in, dude_ , he reminded himself, the sound of the pool balls hitting together bringing him back to reality. Dean watched the balls disperse, a striped one making its way into the left corner pocket.

“Stripes,” Y/N smiled up at him as she walked around the pool table to make her next move. She stopped right in front of Dean and bent over, taking her aim once again. “Stop staring at my ass,” she said plainly, knowing exactly where Dean’s eyes were.

“But it looks so fuckin’ good in those leggings,” Dean retorted. Y/N could feel the heat in her cheeks rise before she took her shot, her aim a little off due to Dean’s comment. Her ball just barely missed its intended pocket. Dean sucked in through his teeth. “Oof, that’s rough.”

“Shut up, you distracted me!” Y/N defended.

“I did no such thing,” Dean winked. He circled the pool table slowly, deciding where to take his shot from. Y/N watched him closely as he took his position across from her at the pool table, looking up and shooting her a smirk before hitting in a solid ball. Y/N rolled her eyes at him, thinking of a way that she could get back at him for the comment he had made which had distracted her.

“You ever seen 50 Shades Darker?” She asked, an idea coming to her head. Dean leaned over a different side of the pool table.

“Can’t say I have.”

Y/N took a few steps over to him; she was right beside him now. She leaned down so she was level with his face, although Dean wasn’t looking at anything but the cue ball. “There’s this scene where they’re playing pool and…,” Y/N began, waiting for the perfect moment to finish her sentence, right before Dean would take his shot. Dean pulled his arm back and Y/N continued, “he just leaned her over the table and fucked her right then and there.” Dean’s shot was lost on him as he tensed up from Y/N’s words. The cue ball hit the edge of the table, missing all the other balls in its path. “Aw, would you look at that. I believe that’s a scratch,” Y/N teased.

“Now _that_ was totally cheating!” Dean exclaimed, as he stood up straight, his face flushed.

“How so?” Y/N asked, tilting her head and cocking her eyebrows as she chalked up her pool stick.

“Oh, don’t you worry. You wanna play the game this way, I’m more than happy to,” Dean smiled.

Y/N grinned devilishly, leaning over the table once more. Dean let her take her shot, and then another, both balls making their way into their perspective pockets. It was when Y/N bent over in front of Dean again and wiggled her ass ever so slightly that he had to suppress a groan. Y/N looked over her shoulder. “What? Nothing to say this time?” She asked. Dean took a step forward, his crotch dangerously close to her backside. He set his pool stick aside, leaning it against the table, before leaning over Y/N, his hands resting on the edge of the table. “This is incredibly invasive, and most definitely distracting,” Y/N commented, as she tried to focus on getting the cue ball aligned with her stick.

Dean leaned over her further, placing his hands over hers slowly, helping her position the pool stick. “Let me help you concentrate, then,” Dean said in a low voice, his lips inches away from Y/N’s ear. Goosebumps covered her body as his hot breath came in contact with her skin.  
  


**Y/N’S POV**

You felt the heat rise in your core as Dean’s body hovered over you, but you tried your best to keep focus on the ball in front of you. Your eyes moved from the ball to your hands, which was just a reminder that Dean’s hands were currently guiding yours. You let out a shaky breath. “I can assure you this is not helping me concentrate at all,” you said, although you didn’t want him to stop.

“Here, you just…,” Dean began, as he guided your arm backwards and lined you up with the cue ball before practically taking your shot for you. Somehow, you got a ball in. “See? It’s not cheating if it doesn’t help me, right?” Dean breathed. He was still hovering over you. All you could do was nod your head; you were too flustered to talk. You were too flustered to move, for that matter. “Go ahead, take your next shot,” Dean chuckled, being the first one to take a step back from the position. You cleared your throat and stood up before beginning to circle the pool table once again. Your next shot was a bust, which clearly made Dean very happy. “Alright,” Dean smiled, as he made his way around the pool table, dragging his fingers along the edge of it. “This is where you admit defeat.”

You looked at him, confused. “There’s still like 14 balls on the table.”

“Twelve more than I have,” Dean chuckled, as he took his aim.

“You’re a child, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” he smirked, taking his shot. Left pocket. You watched as he took another. Corner pocket. And another. Right pocket. You stood there, watching as Dean sunk ball after ball, thinking about anything you could say to mess him up. But no words were coming to you. You reminded yourself that you probably needed to reign it in anyway, as having sex with Dean right now probably wouldn’t be good for you. However, that didn’t mean that you didn’t want him to take you on the pool table this very instant. He looked so damn good; his broad shoulders, his biceps flexing through his jacket as he took his shots, the way he licked his lips in concentration. God, his _tongue_. Thoughts of his tongue lapping up the juices that were dripping from between your thighs made their way into your mind. Oh, how you’d love for him to lift you up onto this very pool table and just devour you… “Corner pocket,” Dean announced, snapping you out of your dirty fantasy. You hadn’t been paying attention enough to realize that Dean only had the 8-ball left. He took his shot and you watched as the cue ball hit the 8-ball right into the corner pocket, and then continued to roll after it. Both you and Dean held your breath, but the universe favored him in this moment as the cue ball stopped right on the edge of the hole. “Aha! Victory is mine!” Dean exclaimed, raising his pool stick in the air. You giggled before taking your index finger and slowly moving it towards the cue ball.

“Y/N Y/L/N, don’t you dare,” Dean warned playfully. You made eye contact with him, a devilish grin on your face, as you tapped the cue ball lightly with your finger, sinking it into the corner pocket.

“Oops,” you smiled. Dean calmly put his pool stick back on the stand before turning to face you.

“You got about five seconds to run,” he said, trying to sound serious but his playfulness was coming out in his tone.

“Oh yeah? Or what?” You taunted as you backed away from him. Dean just watched you, a smirk on his face.

“Three… two… one!” He exclaimed, lunging after you. You let out a scream as Dean chased you around the pool table. You were about to make your way back down stairs before he caught you from behind in a giant bear hug.

“Dean!” You laughed breathily from your slight sprint around the room.

“I cannot believe you did that! Admit I won!” Dean demanded playfully as he lifted you up and dragged you away from the staircase.

“Alright, alright… you won,” you giggled, as he set you back down in the middle of the room. “But I’m still picking the movie tonight,” you added, as you turned around to face him.

“How is that fair?” He exclaimed.

You shrugged. “It’s not, but neither is life.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Pick whatever you’d like… consider it your consolation prize,” he winked.

You smacked his bicep lightly. “I could have won,” you shrugged.

“Yeah? How’s that?”

“Oh, Dean,” you said sympathetically, “If only you knew what I was thinking about when I was watching you win.”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used this chapter to fulfill a writing challenge on Tumblr; the prompt I had is in bold (it's a quote from TVD, if it sounds familiar, that's why). Hope you guys enjoy!

_**Labor Day Weekend** _

_**Sunday** _

**DEAN’S POV**

Dean was in the kitchen cooking breakfast when Y/N stumbled in.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” he smiled, letting out a small chuckle as she made her way straight to the fresh pot of coffee. She was wearing pajama shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top that hugged her body perfectly. Her hair was a mess and her eyes were still drowsy with sleep, but Dean found her absolutely, unbearably, adorable.

“Hmph,” Y/N greeted Dean back, too tired to form words with her mouth.

“You sleep okay?”

Y/N nodded as she opened the fridge, hoping to find some creamer, although not expecting a guy like Bobby to like his coffee sweet. She sighed as her assumptions were proven correct and settled for milk and about five tablespoons of sugar instead. She took a sip of her coffee, the caffeine hitting her system almost instantly. “What are you making?” She asked groggily, but with a smile, as she slowly began to wake up.

Dean couldn’t help but curve his lips up at her sleepy voice. “Cinnamon rolls are in the oven. About to start on some eggs. How d’you like yours cooked?”

“Oooh, that sounds so good,” Y/N stated as she felt her stomach rumble. The last thing she ate was popcorn last night while her and Dean watched Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone. As soon as he let it slip that he had never seen the movies or read the books when Y/N suggested it, she was hell-bent on forcing him to watch them all, eventually. “Scrambled, please,” she replied to Dean’s question with a sleepy smile. Dean nodded to let her know he heard her. “So,” she began again, “what’s on the agenda for today?”

“I was thinkin’… weather’s nice and Bobby’s got a little boat we can use. Nothing fancy or anything… actually, it’s just like the one –”

“In the Notebook?” Y/N asked with a giggle as she took a sip of her coffee.

“Yep,” Dean smiled, “Just like that one.”

“So, a lake day… sounds relaxing.”

“Only because you won’t be the one doin’ the rowing,” Dean chuckled. The oven beeped letting him know that the cinnamon rolls were ready and he opened a nearby drawer to grab an oven mitt. Y/N took another sip of her coffee as she watched him bend over to pull the cinnamon rolls out of the oven, his jeans tightening over his butt as he did so. He had a great butt. “Stop staring at my ass,” he commented; he could feel his eyes on her.

“It’s so cute, though,” Y/N retorted. Dean chuckled and shook his head stood back up, setting the cinnamon rolls down on the unused part of the stove to cool. Y/N placed her mug on the counter and came to Dean’s side, ready to frost the baked goods. “Frosting?” Y/N asked Dean, and he grabbed the small container from beside him and handed it to her, along with a butter knife, as he continued to scramble the eggs. Y/N began to spread the sweet cream all over the rolls, making sure to get every last bit out of the plastic container. They never gave you enough frosting for all the rolls. Dean glanced over at the sticky mess that Y/N was making as she coated the cinnamon rolls in the sugary goodness.

“Jesus, you have a sweet tooth, don’t you?” He laughed softly.

“Mhm,” she replied as she finished and set the knife in the sink. “What, you don’t?” She asked, sucking her fingers clean. Dean’s breath hitched in his throat as he watched her lips close around each of her fingers. She didn’t break eye contact with him as she waited for his answer to her question, but Dean couldn’t seem to form his reply. Y/N slowed down her actions, slowly putting her index finger in her mouth and hallowing her cheeks around it, all while she looked at Dean with mischief in her eyes. She sucked the remaining icing off slowly, quite enjoying the effect it was having on Dean. “You okay?” She said with a smirk once she finished, turning on the tap water to rinse off her hands. Dean cleared his throat and got back to scrambling the eggs.

“Mhm, all good,” he squeaked as he tried to get himself under control. He was enjoying the fact that Y/N was being such a tease, but he knew they had to reign it in or they might move a little faster than they wanted to. Or, rather, than Y/N wanted to.

“You are so easy to tease,” Y/N said, amusement in her tone.

“You say that like you’re not.”

“I’m not!” Y/N defended, grabbing a cinnamon roll off the tray and biting into it. Dean turned off the burner that the eggs were cooking on, determining that they were done, before turning to face Y/N with a look of determination.

“Oh, you so are.”

“Prove it.”

Dean took a step towards her, not that there was much space between them to begin with. “Alright. You got somethin’ right,” Dean began as he reached his thumb toward the corner of her mouth, wiping off a piece of frosting, “there.” It was Y/N’s turn for a breath hitch. She watched as Dean put his finger in his mouth, sucking it clean before he released it with an exaggerated pop. “That’s some good frosting,” he said, low and breathy, as if it was taking everything he had not to take her right then and there on the kitchen counter. There was maybe an inch or two between them. They stared at each other as their chests heaved in anticipation. Dean’s eyes darted down to Y/N’s lips. If he ever needed to prove that he had an abundance of self-control, this is the moment he’d reference. God, he wanted to kiss her more than he’d ever wanted to do anything.

**Y/N’S POV**

You stared into Dean’s green eyes, willing for him to kiss you already. You knew you weren’t mentally ready to have sex, not yet anyway, but a kiss? You were craving a kiss. Your eyes darted to his lips. They were plump and pink and God, you wanted him to kiss you. You could feel your breath shaking as the two of you looked at one another.

“We probably shouldn’t,” you whispered, your stupid subconscious taking control of your words.

Dean nodded. “Probably not,” he breathed. Neither of you moved. Your eye contact remained unbroken. You felt as though this might be it; the moment where you could finally let your walls all the way down. The moment where you could allow yourself to fall, to open your heart to him, to let him in. You knew he would never hurt you. You knew he would stand by your side through anything. But then again, you thought the same thing about Nick. You quickly pushed the thoughts of your ex down, re-focusing on the moment at hand. Dean wasn’t Nick, and your heart knew that. Your brain was just taking a minute to catch up. You stared into Dean’s green eyes, the moment seeming to last forever. Everything around you seemed to fade away. The kitchen, the lake house, the world outside it… it was just you and Dean, your chests falling and rising, in sync with one another, as both of you waited in suspense for the other to do _it_. You took a deep shaky breath, moments away from saying, “I want you to”. As you opened your mouth to speak, there was a loud knock at the front door. The world around you suddenly came back into focus, as Dean broke the look that the two of you had been sharing and turned his head towards the noise.

“What the hell?” He muttered irritably, holding his index finger up to say, “one second”, before leaving you in the kitchen, allowing you to fully release the breath that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in. You weren’t sure if you were thankful or annoyed over the interruption, but there was nothing you could do about it now. The moment was over. You sighed and made your way out into the living room, just in time to watch Dean open the front door. “Hi. Can I help you with –”

“Dean Winchester?” You heard a man’s voice ask on the other side of the threshold. You couldn’t see him from where you were standing, but he didn’t sound familiar.

“Uh, yes, sir, that’s me,” Dean replied, confusion in his tone.

“You’ve been served,” the other voice said, and you watched as a hand appeared over the threshold, holding a folder.

“Excuse me?” Dean questioned, his anger rising.

“I’m just the messenger, sir. All you need to know is in that folder. Have a nice day.”

“Yeah, you too,” Dean said coldly, closing the door as you heard footsteps receding on the other side of it.

“Did he just say you got served? As in court documents?” You asked, your voice lined with both confusion and disbelief. Dean nodded, staring at the folder in his hands.

“How the hell did they even know to find me here?” Dean wondered, opening the folder slowly.

“Maybe they stopped by the dealership first? Bobby might’ve told them where you were.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, he probably tried to call me too, but I haven’t checked my phone all day,” he stated, as he scanned over the documents in his hand. He scoffed as his eyes fell on the name of the person who the papers were from.

“What? Who’s it from?” You questioned, taking a step closer to him.

Dean sighed, hesitating for a moment before telling you. “Nick. He’s suing me for assault,” he said, looking up at you. You suddenly felt sick to your stomach as a rage overtook you.

“WHAT!?” You screamed, taking the folder from his hands and looking over it yourself. “Oh, he can’t be fucking serious!”

“Y/N, it’s okay, I –”

“OKAY? This is NOT okay! This is the OPPOSITE of fucking okay! And he’s asking you for,” you looked down at the document in your hand, “ten grand or he’s taking you to court!? You don’t have that money! I don’t have that money! He doesn’t _deserve_ that money!”

Dean took a deep breath. “I do have that money,” he said softly. You looked up at him in question. “I have it saved, it was all going towards starting my own shop, but –”

“Oh, hell, no! Don’t even _think_ about it. I’ll figure something out, I’ll come up with the money somehow,” you said, beginning to pace the living room floor.

“You? _You_? You do know _I’m_ the one getting sued, right? You have nothing to worry about. Listen, I don’t want you to worry about this. Please, Y/N. It’s got nothing to do with you,” Dean pleaded.

You stopped pacing and turned your head to glare at him. “Nothing to do with me? Nothing to do with me!? This has everything to do with me! You’re in this mess because of _me_ and _my_ ex-boyfriend. You’re in this mess because _I_ agreed to your “holidate” idea. You’re in this mess because _I_ bumped into you at the mall that day. All of this is because of ME! OKAY? ALL OF IT! _I’m_ the one who can’t choose good men, _I’m_ the one who can’t let my walls down, _I’m_ the one who can’t fucking hear my ex’s name without feeling the need to vomit! ME! And now you, the most wonderful human being that I have ever met, _you_ are getting fucking _sued_ because of _me_. Because you were trying to defend _me_ ,” you rambled, tears starting to well up in your eyes from the anger that you were feeling. “I am so… I am so sorry, Dean,” you sobbed, “I’m sorry that you ever met me.” You wiped your tears away with the back of your hand, not that it was helping to stop them from falling.

“Hey,” Dean whispered gently, taking a step towards you. You felt him take the folder out of your hand, placing it on the coffee table next to him. You were now using both hands to wipe away the waterfalls that wouldn’t stop, sniffling and sobbing as you did so. “Hey,” Dean said again, grabbing you gently by your wrists and pulling your hands away from your face. You stared at the floor; you had cried enough in front of Dean. He didn’t need to wipe any more tears away. “Sweetheart, please look at me,” he pleaded.

“I f-feel like all I do in front of you is cry,” you sobbed. “You d-don’t need this.”

Dean let go of your wrists and brought his hands to your face, cupping your wet cheeks as he forced you to look up at him. “Listen to me,” he said softly, but sternly, letting you know that he was serious. “I love you. Do you hear me? I am in love with you. I want to be with _you_ , Y/N. No one else,” he stated, his green eyes not leaving yours as his thumbs wiped away at your tears. “ **I understand if I have to wait for you, and I will. I’ll wait and when you’re ready for me I’ll be ready for you.** But you gotta know, Y/N… you gotta know that nothing else matters to me. You are perfect to me. Don’t you ever apologize for coming into my life again,” he said, gripping your face a little tighter, making sure that you heard him, “because you are absolutely the best thing in it. You hear me?” You let out one more sob and nodded. “C’mere,” he whispered, pulling you into his chest. “We’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll figure it all out, I promise,” he reassured you, as you wrapped your arms around his waist tightly. You inhaled his scent as you tried to catch your breath. Dean’s hand was gently rubbing up and down your back, calming you down. The two of you stayed like that for a while, until your breathing went back to normal and your face was no longer wet from tears. You were the first to pull away, smiling up at him with your eyes as you did so. He chuckled softly as he looked down at you.

“What?” You croaked, your voice in the process of coming back to you.

“I just don’t know how you can still be so pretty after crying for ten minutes.”

You swatted at his chest playfully. “There’s no need to lie to me, I feel better now, I promise,” you giggled through a sniffle.

“I’m serious!”

“Well, thank you. Seriously. For everything. And again, I’m so sorry that Nick –”

“Ah-ah,” Dean interrupted, “no more Nick talk, alright? You forget about that fuckhead for the rest of this trip. We can figure all that out when we get back home, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded, agreeing that it would be best to forget that Nick ever existed, at least for the weekend. “Wanna eat?” You asked, remembering the breakfast that was waiting for the two of you.

Dean chuckled. “Yeah. I’m starving.”

After breakfast was all finished and cleaned up – you _insisted_ on washing the dishes, and Dean finally agreed, but only if he could dry them – the two of you began getting ready to head out to the lake. Dean stayed in the kitchen to pack a cooler full of drinks while you headed back to the room that you were staying in to change. You replaced your pajamas with jean shorts and a plain white tee with a deep V, a lace maroon bralette peaking up from underneath it. You brushed your hair out, gave yourself a fishtail braid, and grabbed your sunglasses from your purse, hanging them on your neckline before you took one final look at yourself in the mirror and headed back out to meet Dean. You found him in the living room, bent over the cooler, double checking that he had packed everything.

“You know we can literally row back to shore if you forget anything, right?” You chuckled.

“We? You mean _I_ can row back to shore, and I don’t wanna,” he teased, closing the cooler as he determined that he wasn’t forgetting anything. You rolled your eyes as Dean stood up, taking a good look at you and licking his lips. “You look – damn.”

“Thank you,” you smiled. “You look “damn” as well, but you always look like that.”

“Oh, I assure you, I don’t.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you retorted. You paused for a moment to look over his outfit of choice; a black t-shirt and jeans. “Are you really wearing jeans? It’s like 80 degrees outside,” you stated.

“Oh, sweetheart, I don’t do shorts.”

“What if I fall in and you have to save me? It’s hard to swim in jeans,” you countered.

“You’re not gonna fall in,” he began, “and if you do, my pants are not glued to my legs. I _can_ take them off, you know.”

You raised your eyebrow at him as a smirk formed on your lips. “Dean Winchester, ever the tease.”

Dean rolled his eyes, although the soft smile that graced his lips didn’t go unnoticed by you. “Alright,” he said, picking up the cooler with a grunt and grabbing a nearby blanket, “let’s row.”

You giggled at his pun as you opened the front door for him and followed him outside.

The temperature may have been in the 80’s, but there was a cool breeze that balanced out the sun that was beating down on both you and Dean as he paddled out into the middle of the lake. You chewed on your lip as you watched his biceps flex underneath his t-shirt with each row. There was no one else out, which seemed unusual, as it was the Sunday of Labor Day Weekend, but you weren’t complaining. The birds were chirping, the water rippling, and it was incredibly serene. Dean stopped rowing as he reached the middle of the lake, the boat swaying a little as the ripples in the water began to still.

“Peaceful, isn’t it?” He asked, slightly out of breath as he looked around at the water and trees surrounding the two of you.

You nodded as you tried to take in the nature around you. It had been a while since you’d last seen scenery like this. “How many times have you been here?” You asked, wondering if he got the chance to come out here often.

“My first time out here was about two years ago, I wanna say. I had just moved into town, started working at the dealership, and Bobby took me under his wing straight away. I was lost, back then, and I think he could tell. He brought me out here one weekend. Told me there’s very few things that a couple of beers, a lake, and a fishing rod can’t fix. And he wasn’t wrong. I usually try to make it up here at least once every other month, just to keep my head screwed on straight. This place calms me. And Bobby’s nice enough to let me up here when I want, although he’s never agreed to let me bring someone along before. Sam’s never even been up here,” Dean finished, squinting as he tried to shield the sun from his eyes with his hand. You took your sunglasses from where they were still hanging off the neckline of your shirt and reached forward to hand them to him. “Thanks,” he chuckled, taking them from you, “you sure you don’t need ‘em?”

“The sun’s behind me,” you giggled. Dean put on your sunglasses, which were black and had oversized rectangular frames with small plastic rhinestones on the sides of them. You had bought them at a gas station somewhere for $12 after you had lost your previous pair. It was like a never-ending cycle of losing and buying cheap sunglasses for you; you never understood how people could keep track of their $100 pairs.

“How do I look?” He asked, making a duck face and looking to the side dramatically, as if he were modeling.

“I’d put you on the cover of Vogue,” you laughed. You waited a minute before continuing the prior conversation. “So, why’d Bobby let me up here, then?”

Dean shrugged. “I honestly was expecting him to say no when I asked, but he surprised me. Guess he must really like you.”

You smiled. “Well, I am pretty likeable,” you joked.

“That’s an understatement,” Dean chuckled. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, taking in the fresh air around you, before Dean asked, “Hey, wanna see my favorite spot out here?”

“Is the sky blue?”

Dean smiled. “Alright, it’s almost directly across the lake from Bobby’s dock,” he stated, as he began to row again, towards shore this time. “Found it about a year ago. We can unpack the cooler there.”

“Sounds good. Are you sure you don’t need help rowing?” You asked, giggling as you watched him in your sunglasses. He looked ridiculous. Absolutely adorable, but still, ridiculous.

“Nah, I’ve been meaning to get an arm workout in anyway,” he reassured you, your eyes moving to his biceps once again as he continued to row.

The shore that Dean had brought the two of you to was a small one, hidden underneath some trees in a tucked-away part of the lake. It was directly across from Bobby’s dock, although you almost had to squint to see it all the way on the other side of the water. Dean offered his hand out for you to hold on to while you made your way out of the unsteady boat and onto shore, which was covered in tall grass, except for a small patch of dirt in the middle of it. You watched as Dean anchored the rowboat in its place on the water by tying it to a nearby tree before he reached into it, grabbing the cooler and blanket. You helped him spread the blanket out on the small patch of dirt, and the two of you sat down next to each other and took in the view. The small rowboat sitting on the lake, the rippling water, the serenity of it all.

“I can see why this is your favorite spot,” you commented, hugging your knees to your chest as you rested your chin on them.

Dean chuckled softly. “Yeah. No one can touch me out here, y’know? It’s peaceful. Quiet. I can be alone with my thoughts.”

You huffed a laugh. “I wish I could be alone with my thoughts and not spiral into a sobbing mess.”

You felt Dean’s eyes on you for a brief moment, but you continued looking out towards the lake. “I know that feeling,” Dean sighed. You turned your head.

“You do?”

“After my dad died, I never really dealt with it, you know? I kinda just… pushed all of it down. I had a lot of mixed feelings at the time. I was in my 20s… I wasn’t ready to lose my dad. He wasn’t the best father either. Hell, he was a shit father. But he had this way of pulling you in. Of getting you to respect him anyway. And I know he loved me, I don’t doubt that he did… but… anyway, I was dealing with all of those repressed emotions, and they’d just… eat me up at night. Am I a bad son because I thought he was a shitty dad, even after he died? Should I even be sad? Am I an awful person for even questioning if I should be sad? Anyway… dealt with those thoughts for a while, but they started getting better once I started coming up here. And then I found this spot, and I let it all go,” Dean finished. He turned to face you. You were watching him intently with adoration in your eyes, your cheek resting on your knee.

“How?” You asked softly.

“How what?”

“How did you let it all go?”

Dean huffed a small smile and began to look around at the ground, moving patches of grass aside until he found what he was searching for. He grabbed one of your wrists gently, tugging it away from where you had it wrapped around your legs, and placed something hard and cold in your palm. When he pulled his hand away, you saw that it was a small rock. You looked up at him, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “This is a rock,” you stated.

Dean chuckled. “Sure is.”

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Throw it,” Dean said, nodding towards the lake.

“This is how you let it all go?” You questioned, utterly confused at his coping technique. “You threw rocks?”

Dean laughed softly and shook his head. “No. Well, yes. But you have to assign it to something first.”

You squinted at him, giving him a look that was clearly questioning his sanity. “You do hear how crazy you sound right now, right?” You giggled.

Dean rolled his eyes and leaned over, grabbing another rock from the ground, before standing up. He held his hand out to help you up and you took it, letting him pull you to your feet. He walked you over to the bank and held his rock out in front of him. “This is the fear I have about the fact that I may not have been a good son,” he stated, before winding his arm back and throwing the rock into the lake, as far as he could chuck it. You nodded your head, understanding the idea now. Dean turned to you. “Now you try.”

You sighed. There were so many things that you could assign to your rock, you weren’t quite sure where to start. You looked at Dean. “You know all my fears and insecurities pretty well by now, I’d say. Give me an idea.”

Dean shook his head. “Doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. It’s gotta be all you. What’s the number one thing that’s been on your mind, keeping you from doing the things you want to do? Let it go.”

You stared at the rock in your hand. You could have said any of the numerous insecurities that had stemmed from Nick, but there was really only one thing, above all your other thoughts, that was keeping you from doing the one thing you wanted to do. You turned to Dean and held the rock out in front of you. You made sure to keep eye contact with him as you said the next words. “This…,” you stopped to take a deep breath, “is the fear I have… about letting myself love Dean Winchester,” you stated with a smile, before turning briefly to hurl the rock into the lake. Your eyes met with Dean’s again, and he took a step towards you, cupping your face in his hands for the second time that day. You relaxed into his touch, letting your eyes close for a brief moment, before opening them to look into his green ones again. Dean couldn’t hold back the grin on his face even if he had tried to, and you could tell. A sudden wave of happiness overtook you. A feeling of freedom, from that fear at least. You loved him. You loved him, and he knew it. And he loved you back. You couldn’t stop grinning, either. Your cheeks began to cramp, you were smiling so hard.

“Are you sure?” Dean asked softly.

You nodded. “I’ve never been sure-er of anything in my life,” you assured him.

“Can I –”

You interrupted him with a nod, already knowing where the question was going. Though you appreciated his attempt at asking, you couldn’t go another second without his lips on yours. The nod seemed to be the only permission Dean needed as he pulled you towards him, a moment that happened fast but seemed to move in slow motion. It felt as though your heart quite literally fluttered as his lips finally met yours. Your stomach did more than a few somersaults as the two of you molded together perfectly. If this were a cheesy rom-com, you knew there’d be some stupid fireworks sound effects playing in the background. You deepened the kiss as you grabbed Dean’s wrists and moved his hands from your face to your hips, allowing you the room to wrap your arms around his neck. He walked you backwards, pushing you back into a nearby tree, his lips never leaving yours. You knew you would need to come up for air at some point soon, albeit reluctantly, but you could make it a few more seconds without oxygen if it meant that Dean’s lips would stay on yours for that much longer. Dean’s hands traveled around to the to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. It’s like he couldn’t get enough of you either. After what could have only been a few more seconds, although it felt like minutes, you moved your hands to his chest and pushed him away gently, breaking the kiss for some much-needed air and time to cool off, before it got any more heated. Dean smiled as he rested his forehead on yours, understanding completely why you stopped, the happiness he was feeling drowning out any disappointment he may have had from the cease of his lips on yours. You smiled too, as you caught your breath, taking in the moment.

“That was…,” Dean breathed, not quite able to find the words yet.

“Yeah,” you agreed, nodding gently as you let out a breathy giggle. You pulled away from his forehead and looked over to the lake, the sun reflecting against the water, making it sparkle. You wrapped your arms back around Dean’s neck, wanting to keep him close as he followed your gaze and looked out to the lake alongside you.

“Somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart?” Dean wondered.

“I just… feel happy,” you smiled, looking back up at him. “Happy to be here with my _real_ boyfriend – uh, if that’s okay,” you added quickly, your abruptness catching you a bit off guard.

“It’s okay under one condition,” Dean began, a teasing tone to his voice.

You raised an eyebrow at him. “And what condition would that be?”

“That I get to kiss you whenever I want,” he stated, wiggling his eyebrows flirtatiously.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Fine,” you sighed dramatically, as if his condition wasn’t the best condition in the world, “I give you permission to kiss me whenever you want.”

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that,” he laughed.

“Why’s that?”

Dean leaned in to plant a quick peck on your lips before adding, “’Cause I’m never gonna stop.”

You smiled. “And why would I want you to?”

Dean leaned in to give you another kiss. “’Cause,” he stopped to plant another kiss, on your forehead this time, “it’s gonna get,” another kiss to your nose, “real annoying,” he finished, pecking your lips again.

“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point,” you laughed, looking out to the lake again. Dean continued planting soft kisses all over your face. Each one made your heat flutter. “What’d you bring in that cooler?” You asked, suddenly feeling really thirsty; you hadn’t had anything to drink all day besides your coffee this morning, and that felt like ages ago. You were about to make your way to the cooler, but Dean’s grip on your hips wasn’t allowing you to go anywhere. He continued to attack you with kisses, smiling smugly between each one. “Dean!” You giggled, as you tried to break free from your spot in between him and the tree.

“Nuh-uh,” he replied between kisses, keeping you there.

“Dean –”

You were interrupted by another kiss.

“I’m –”

And another.

“Thirsty!” You finally finished; another kiss being planted on your lips.

Dean let out an overly dramatic sigh before dropping his hands from your hips. “Fine, fine, I’ll get you your drink,” he grumbled sarcastically. You chuckled at how adorable he was, following him as he walked to the cooler reluctantly.

The two of you sat there on the shore, nursing your beers and talking about anything and everything until the sun started to set.

“So, when we get back home… we can see each other whenever, right?” You asked, already knowing it was a dumb question, but you wanted to make sure that the two of you were completely on the same page.

“I’ll be seein’ you every damn day if I can help it,” Dean replied with a smile. You downed the rest of your beer and placed the empty bottle beside you, repositioning yourself on the blanket so you were now laying on your back, your head resting on Dean’s thigh as his legs were outstretched in front of him. Dean smiled down at you. “Comfortable?”

“Very,” you replied. Dean set his bottle down beside him and placed his hand on top of yours, which was resting on your stomach. You interlaced your fingers with his as you stared up at him. The sun had almost set all the way, and you knew that you would have to leave this moment and this place soon, but you wanted nothing more than to stay in it forever. “I love you,” you smiled, trying to keep your voice from cracking, as you absolutely refused to cry in front of him _again_. It felt good to say it out loud. It felt freeing to let yourself love again.

He beamed down at you. “I love you, too.”


	9. Chapter Nine, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part II to this chapter is currently in the works, so y’all won’t have to wait long I promise. I decided to split this chapter up into two parts because I didn’t want to have a chapter where I didn’t cover a holiday, so Halloween will be in the next part! This chapter had me shouting “GO OFF!!!” as I was writing the ending and I hope it does the same for you. Flashbacks and thoughts in this chapter are in italics. As always, I will love you forever and ever if you leave a comment telling me what you think! Enjoy!

_**Two Days Later** _

**Y/N’S POV**

It was back to reality for both you and Dean today. You had gotten back home around midday yesterday, as the forecast predicted intermittent thunderstorms and you hated being on the road while it was raining. Dean had walked you to your door, and you smiled as you remembered the moment.

_“I really had a great time, Dean. Thank you,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck. He smiled down at you, that loving twinkle in his eyes._

_“Thank you for trusting me enough to come along,” he replied, snaking his arms around your waist and pulling you in close. “When can I see you again?”_

_“Hmmm,” you thought, “Want to come over for dinner tomorrow? After we both get off work? I’ll cook,” you suggested._

_“It’s a date. A real one,” he chuckled, ducking his head to place a passionate kiss on your lips. “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”_

Dinner was tonight, and you were stuck at your dead-end desk job until 3:00. You chewed on the end of your pen as you tried to think of what to cook. You figured something simple would be best, as you didn’t want to scare Dean away with your cooking by trying something you had never done before. You could do spaghetti and meatballs with a side of Texas Toast… _or I have those potatoes that need to be cooked… you can never go wrong with a baked potato,_ you thought to yourself. You were thankful that this was the only thing you were concerned about – had it been like any other usual first date you knew you’d be stressing over what to wear or how to do your makeup or hair… but none of that mattered around Dean. He had seen you at your worst; just-rolled-out-of-bed-no-coffee-yet-PJs-and-robe-on worst – multiple times. You were brought out of your thoughts by the buzz of your phone, which was laying on your desk beside your coffee tumbler. You smiled as you saw Dean’s name on your screen and unlocked your phone to answer.

**DEAN’S POV**

Dean quickly wiped the oil and grease off his hands on a nearby rag before answering his ringing phone. He thought it might have been Y/N, calling to further inquire about dinner after their text exchange 30 minutes ago, but Dean felt a nervousness settle in the pit of his stomach as he saw who was actually calling.

“Hey, Sammy, you find anything?” He answered his phone hopefully. Dean had asked his little brother to look over Nick’s lawsuit to see if there were any loopholes, as Sam used to be a lawyer. He practiced law for about two years and ended up hating it. He really took to teaching though, so that’s what he did now.

“No, dude. You’re screwed. Unless there’s any video footage of the assault… I don’t see any loopholes here. I’m sorry.”

Dean let out a frustrated groan as he dragged his hand down his face in defeat. “So, you’re sayin’ I have to give up my life savings to this asshole or _what_?”

“Or you spend a lot more than ten grand on a trial and a lawyer… and you’d lose and probably get, best case; house arrest, worst case; a year or two in prison. Have you checked with the venue to see if there’s any surveillance footage? Anything with Nick in it at all could help you, honestly.”

“Yeah, I uh, I don’t remember the venue’s name but I’ll ask Y/N for it tonight and call them up tomorrow. Thanks anyway, Sam. I know lookin’ over lawsuits isn’t your favorite thing.”

Sam chuckled. “Eh, if anything, it just reminded me why I quit in the first place. Let me know if the venue finds anything. And Dean, if you do end up needing a lawyer, or just someone who knows their legal stuff, please let me know. I can sit in on meetings with you, if you need me to. Not sure that I’d be able to argue in front of a courtroom because I’m a little rusty, but if it comes to that I can find you someone, okay?”

“I will, Sammy. Thanks.”

Dean let out a sigh as he put his phone down on a nearby work table and got back to fixing up a 1972 Chevy for one of the dealership’s most recurring clients. As he slid back under the truck, he thought about owning his own shop one day, and then about how he might never get to live out that dream if he didn’t find a way out of this mess. At this point, everything was riding on whether or not the venue had any footage, and Dean was anything but hopeful. 

Six o’clock rolled around quickly, and before Dean knew it he was knocking at Y/N’s front door. 

“It’s unlocked!” Dean heard his favorite voice yell in the distance on the other side of the door. She must’ve yelled loud, because the sound of “You Shook Me All Night Long” by AC/DC could be heard clearly from the front porch. Dean smiled to himself as he opened the door and stepped inside, locking up behind him. He couldn’t hold back his grin as he saw Y/N dancing to the music, wearing an oversized t-shirt as a dress while stirring spaghetti in the pot in front of her. 

**Y/N’S POV**

You turned around as you heard footsteps come up behind you, and you were met with your favorite face. Dean was wearing his usual get-up; jeans, a Led Zeppelin tee, and a blue flannel to tie off the look. In his hand he was holding a bouquet of assorted bright-colored, yellow, pink, and white flowers. 

“Dean! You didn’t need to bring flowers!” You exclaimed, taking them from his outstretched hand and holding them up to your nose to smell. “They’re beautiful, thank you.”

“You’re officially my girl now. You get all the flowers,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss you hello. 

“You’re too good to me, Dean Winchester,” you smiled, handing him the spoon that you had been using to stir the pasta. “Take over for me real quick? I gotta put these in some water.”

Dean nodded and took the utensil from you, taking your place as spaghetti stirrer. You turned down the music coming from your Bluetooth speaker, the calming melody of Bob Seger’s “Night Moves” now beginning to play as the hard rock of AC/DC faded away. You stood on your tippy-toes to reach a vase on the top shelf of one of your cabinets, trying your best not to knock any of the other glassware over. “So,” you said with a soft grunt, finally grabbing hold of the vase, “how was work?”

“Good, just worked on this old truck all day. Got a call from Sam, though. He looked over the lawsuit,” Dean said hesitantly as he continued to stir the pasta.

You placed the vase under the tap and turned on the water. “Okay…,” you began slowly, “good news or bad?”

“Told me to check with the venue, see if there’s any video footage. If not, I’m pretty much screwed.”

You placed the flowers in the vase and then placed the arrangement on the counter, turning to face Dean, whose back was to you. You walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his back. You smiled as he placed one of his hands on top of yours and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Dean,” you sighed, wishing that you had never met Nick in the first place.

“You got nothin’ to be sorry about, sweetheart,” Dean replied, as he continued to stir. “It’s not like I don’t have the money, if it comes down to that.”

You let go of him and hopped up onto the counter next to the stove. “You _don’t_ have the money,” you said sternly, causing him to look up at you. 

“Y/N, it’s okay, I can –”

“You are _not_ paying that asshole a fucking _dime_ , you hear me? I won’t let you,” you reiterated. 

“Yeah, well… something tells me that _that_ argument won’t hold up well in a courtroom,” Dean sighed, looking back down at the pasta, “But, we can cross that bridge if we get to it, right? Do you still have the venue info? I’m going to give ‘em a call tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I’ll text it to you. But, Dean,” you said as you reached over to gently grab underneath his chin, forcing him to look at you, “you will _not_ be paying him. I’m serious. There’s no bridge to cross when it comes to that.”

Dean placed the spoon on top of the pot and stepped to the side to stand in front of you. He gently placed his hands on your thighs and gave them a loving squeeze before speaking. “Sweetheart, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it’s my money and if that’s what I need to do to get out of this mess, then that’s how I’ll get out of it. I did break the man’s nose.”

“Because he was about to hurt me!”

“Oh, I don’t regret it. I’m just saying, actions have consequences, and this is an unfortunate consequence.”

“No, it’s a non-existent consequence because it will not be happening. Over my dead and rotting body!”

Dean let out a soft chuckle. 

“I’m serious!” You exclaimed.

“God, you’re adorable.”

You rolled your eyes. “I am trying to be stern with you!”

“I know, and it’s real cute,” Dean said with a smile, cupping your face and pulling it towards him so he could plant a kiss on your nose. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m not kidding, though. None of your money goes to Nick. Am I clear?”

“You’re clear as day, sweetheart. All I’m sayin’ is, I might have to.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it, you won’t.”

Dean smiled. “If you say so,” he said, pulling your face into a kiss. You pulled away.

“You cannot kiss your way into changing my mind on this!”

“Maybe not, but I still get to kiss you whenever I want. We have a deal, remember?” You rolled your eyes again, much more dramatically this time around. Dean chuckled softly. “I did tell you that it was gonna get annoying,” he shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess you did,” you giggled. Dean kissed you again, a bit more passionately this time. You deepened the kiss by placing your arms around his neck and wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer into you. The pasta on the stove was quickly forgotten about as Dean’s hands moved down your body to grip at the sides of your ass and you let out a soft groan as he swiped your bottom lip with his tongue, asking for entry. You granted it, letting him explore your mouth as a familiar heat in your lower abdomen started to rise. Dean began to kiss from the corner of your lip, down your jaw, to the sweet spot on your neck. You let out a soft gasp as he sucked, lightly grazing his teeth over the spot as he gave you a little love bite. You threw your head back – **BAM**!

“Oh, FUCK!” You screamed, your hand immediately coming to tend to the spot on the back of your head that you had just slammed into the corner of the cabinet door behind you. 

“Jesus, sweetheart, are you alright!?” Dean asked, his tone filled with concern as he pulled away from you.

“Mhm, yeah,” you grunted, trying to push down the piercing headache that the collision had caused.

“Here, where does it hurt? Let me take a look,” he said softly, leaning over as you turned your head so he could get a better look. You moved your hand away from the spot where a welt was now forming. Dean reached over gently, brushing his fingers over the bump, causing you to wince. “Sorry,” he whispered, noticing your facial expression. “There’s no blood or anything, but it’s gonna bruise for sure. How are you feeling?”

“Just have a headache now,” you groaned, leaning forward to rest your forehead on Dean’s shoulder. You let out a soft chuckle at the situation.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean asked, confused as to why you were laughing.

“I’ll be fine, just – it would happen to me, wouldn’t it? Middle of a fucking amazing make-out session and I slam my damn head into a cabinet door.”

“There’s plenty more where those came from, sweetheart. Don’t worry,” he chuckled. “It was cute. And if anything, it’s boosted my ego. Wasn’t aware I was _that_ good of a kisser,” he smirked. You swatted his bicep playfully, your forehead still resting on his shoulder. 

“Shut up,” you laughed softly. 

“Alright, how about you take a seat and I’ll get dinner ready?”

You looked up at him. “No! I was supposed to cook for you!”

“You did! I’m sure the spaghetti’s done by now and I’m capable of popping some meatballs in the microwave. Take a seat,” he said, motioning to the nearby table. You huffed as you hopped off the kitchen counter and walked over to take a seat at one of the chairs. “You need anything? Water? Advil?” He asked. You stared at him in awe; you had never been cared for like this. He was something else, truly. “Y/N?” 

“Yes, please,” you smiled. “Advil’s in the cabinet closest to the wall.”

You were feeling much better after dinner, and you and Dean had decided to sit down and watch Hocus Pocus, as Halloween was the next holiday that you two were going to get to celebrate together, and the first one as an official couple. It also happened to be your favorite holiday, so pulling out the Halloween movies a whole month and a half before October 31st didn’t bother you one bit. In fact, you were of the opinion that Halloween movies could be watched year-round, to which Dean disagreed with wholeheartedly as you began searching for the movie on Netflix. 

“That’s like the people who listen to Christmas music year-round! Bunch of weirdos,” he stated, as he took a seat on the couch next to you, a bowl of freshly made popcorn in his hand. 

“Do _not_ compare me to those people! It is not the same thing at all!” You retorted, feigning offense.

“What happened to watching the wizard people? I want to see what happens to Ron.”

“Okay, one, it’s Harry Potter,” you corrected, “and two, you do know Ron’s not the main character, right?” You asked, pressing play on Hocus Pocus and grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl in Dean’s lap. 

“Yeah, but he’s my favorite. Harry’s an idiot.”

You shrugged as the beginning credits started rolling. “Can’t argue with you there.”

“He would’ve died the first fucking challenge had it not been for Ron and what’s-her-face,” Dean continued.

You scoffed at him. “Do not disrespect Hermione Granger like that!” 

“Well maybe I’d learn her name if we watched the next movies instead of whatever this is,” Dean retorted, waving his hand at the TV screen. “I mean, Harry Potter is witches and stuff. They’re technically Halloween movies.”

“ _This_ is a fucking _classic_ , and it is a crime that you have not seen it. We can watch Harry Potter next time, but right now you’re gonna sit there, eat your damn popcorn, and enjoy the absolute cinematic masterpiece that is Hocus Pocus!” You demanded with a pout as the movie finally began to play. Dean looked at you with his eyebrows raised, clearly a bit amused by your little outburst.

“Mm, I like it when you get all authoritative like that,” he winked, earning an eye roll from you.

“Just shut up and watch the damn movie,” you replied with a giggle, as you cuddled up next to him and reached into the bowl for some more popcorn. 

The end credits were rolling, the popcorn bowl now full of kernels and sitting on the coffee table, and Dean was on top of you on the couch, sucking on the same sweet spot on your neck that had given you a near concussion earlier. You groaned softly as Dean moved to kiss your chest, slowly making his way down to the valley in between your breasts. “Fuck,” you breathed as you watched him go lower, until he stopped at the deep V neckline of your t-shirt dress.

“This is in my way,” he growled, tugging down on it slightly so he could place a few more kisses even lower. He trailed his lips back up your chest to meet with yours again, kissing you passionately. Dean snaked his right hand down your side, slipping it under your t-shirt dress and firmly grabbing your ass. A muffled groan escaped your lips, as Dean’s mouth was still molding to yours. The heat that you had felt begin to make its appearance earlier was back, and as Dean began to move his hand further up your leg, a different feeling in the pit of your stomach began to rise. You suddenly felt a lump in your throat, the familiar feeling of nausea taking over you. Dean’s hand was resting right above your pelvic bone now, just waiting for your okay. A nod, a groan, anything to tell him that you wanted him to keep going. As much as you wanted him to – more than anything – your body was screaming at you to make him stop. You took a deep breath that Dean mistook for a gasp, and as he inched closer to your core, you couldn’t take the feeling anymore. 

“Wait, Dean, wait,” you said, grabbing his wrist. Dean quickly pulled away from your core.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is it your head?” He asked, the same concern in his voice from earlier. You shook your head as he hovered over you, looking at you with concern in his eyes. “Did I do something?”

“No, no, no, it’s not you,” you said quickly, letting out a deep sigh as tears threatened to fall from your eyes. “It’s – I – I’m not –”

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” Dean reassured you, as he rearranged himself into a sitting position on the couch. You sat up too, and took a deep, shaky breath.

“I just… I don’t think I’m ready. After what happened –”

“Hey, look at me,” Dean said gently. You turned your head to meet his eyes. “You don’t have to explain a damn thing, okay? I’m here when you’re ready but I’ll wait until then.”

You nodded, unconvinced by his reassurance. “I’m sorry. In the moment, when I’m teasing or kissing or anything like that, I’m okay, but –”

“Hey, it’s okay. Really. You have nothing to be sorry about,” he said, pulling you into his chest and placing a kiss on the top of your head. “I’ll wait for you, you know that.”

“I love you,” you whispered, trembling a little from God knows what. Why was your brain this way? Why couldn’t you just get over the trauma? It wasn’t Dean who had caused it. To say it caught you off guard was an understatement. You were extremely frustrated with yourself, and you only hoped that you’d get the hell over it sooner rather than later.

“Shhh,” Dean comforted you, his hand sliding up and down your back, as he tried to get you to stop shaking. “I love you, too, sweetheart. You’re alright. I got you.”

_**One Week Before Halloween** _

You walked up behind Dean and placed both of your hands on his shoulders, squeezing them lovingly before leaning forward to place a kiss on his temple. He was hunched over at the kitchen counter, going through the court documents yet again to find out if there was anything he could do to get himself out of the mess that Nick had forced him into. The venue had given Dean some bad news, explaining that they only kept video footage in their records for about two weeks before deleting it, and since the wedding had been over a month ago, they were unlikely to have it. Dean immediately called Charlie, asking if she could recover deleted files from servers like the one the venue used, to which she replied: “Nothing ever really gets deleted. It might take me awhile, and I’m not guaranteeing anything, but I can sure as hell try.” That was about a month ago, and the meeting with Nick and his lawyer was tomorrow. At least Sam was accompanying Dean to said meeting, but he had already made it pretty clear that unless there was footage, Dean was fighting a losing battle.

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” Dean hummed in response to your tender kiss. He continued reading pages from the folder, searching desperately for a loophole, in case Charlie was trying to do the impossible. 

“Morning,” you replied with a yawn, turning on the coffee maker. This had become a routine for the two of you now. On weekends, at least. You had put your own rule in place, as to keep things at a slow and steady pace for your own mental health; Dean could only spend the night on weekends, and only on the couch. You felt awful at first, putting him in the living room, but after the night of the spaghetti dinner date, you figured it would be best for you two to stay out of the same bed. At least for now, anyway. So, on the weekends, this is how you usually found him. Pouring over those damn court documents. You must have offered to pay the money at least 20 times by now, but Dean wasn’t having it. Still, there was no way in _hell_ that you were allowing him to give his life’s savings away to Nick. You slid a mug of coffee over to him across the counter, and he finally looked up from the papers.

“Thanks, baby,” he smiled, his green eyes looking at you adoringly. You knew he was stressed with everything going on, but he never stopped looking at you like you were his reason for being. 

“You’re welcome,” you replied, returning his loving look with your own. “Have you eaten yet?”

He shook his head. “Was goin’ to but...,'' he said, motioning to the folder in front of him.

“How do chocolate chip pancakes sound?” 

“They sound like you’re the best girlfriend in the whole world,” he grinned. 

“What can I say? I try my best,” you teased, turning around to rummage through your kitchen cabinets for pancake mix. “You ever gonna stop looking through those documents? I’m surprised you don’t know them word for word by now.”

Dean chuckled. “I’m pretty sure I might. I just,” he paused and you heard papers rustling behind you as you grabbed a bowl from a bottom cabinet; you assumed Dean had finally closed the folder, “I just really want this to be over. Sweetheart, I’m going to have to pay. If Charlie hasn’t found anything by now, I don’t think she will. There’s nothing else I can do.”

You sighed as you poured in the pancake mix in the bowl in front of you, followed by the other ingredients. “You can let me pay,” you suggested for the millionth time. 

“I’ve already told you, _that_ is not happening.”

You grabbed a wooden spoon and began to frustratingly stir the mixture in front of you. You knew Dean wasn’t at fault here, and neither were you, but you would never forgive yourself if the reason that Dean couldn’t live out his lifelong dream was because of your ex boyfriend. You’d pay the money yourself behind his back if you had to. You decided to change the subject, as the current discussion was not one you wanted to continue having at nine in the morning.

“So… I know we’ve been busy with all the lawsuit stuff but… Halloween’s in a week. Caroline’s throwing a party and we need costumes. Any ideas?”

You heard Dean chuckle behind you. “I can honestly say that’s been the last thing on my mind.”

You rolled your eyes in frustration. You were so over this stupid lawsuit consuming both you and Dean’s time and thoughts. “I know,” you replied solemnly, “but I just figured thinking about it would take our minds off of the only other thing we’ve been thinking about for the past month.”

“No, you’re right,” Dean agreed. “Hmm… mechanic and woman mechanic?” He suggested.

You let out a soft laugh. “Put a lot of thought into that one, did you?”

“Okay, okay… what about doctor and nurse? And you can wear one of those –,” you cut Dean off with an over-the-shoulder glare before he could finish, to which he replied to with a wink. You rolled your eyes and went back to making pancakes. “Ooooh! Football player and cheerleader?” 

“Something tells me you just want to see me dressed in something slutty.”

“And what if I do?” Dean smirked. Rolling your eyes for the third time that morning, you carefully poured your first pancake onto the pan in front of you.

“Okay, so moving on from _that_... I was thinking Fred and Daphne,” you suggested.

“Ugh, I don’t want to be Fred. I _despise_ Fred,” Dean retaliated.

“So, what you’re saying is you _wouldn’t_ want to see me all dressed up as Daphne? I can make her slutty,” you shrugged, shooting Dean a wink over your shoulder. You saw him gulp at the thought and you smiled to yourself.

“No, that’s not at all what I’m sayin’,” he said quickly. “ _I_ just don’t want to be _that_ asshole.”

“Sounds to me like someone’s jealous of Fred,” you teased, watching the edges of your first pancake brown. 

“Pshh! Me? Jealous of _Fred_? With his stupid hair and stupid ascot and I mean what the hell does Daphne even see in him? It’s like –”

Dean stopped talking as soon as he saw the amused expression you were giving him. 

“Right… not jealous,” you chuckled. “Anyway, what do you think? You don’t have to wear the ascot if you don’t want to… and you’ll get to see me dressed as Daphne.”

“Fine,” Dean grumbled dramatically. “And if you really want me to, I’ll wear the damn ascot.”

The rest of breakfast was made and eaten in comfortable silence, although your mind couldn’t help but wander back to what Dean was going to do about the lawsuit, and you were willing to bet money that he was sat beside you thinking the same thing. The both of you silently mulled over what the next move should be, and what options were available, but even after coffee and a filling meal – neither of you had a clue. All you could do was hope that Charlie would pull through. As you stood up to collect the syrup saturated plates, Dean stopped you with a gentle hand on your wrist. 

“Let me,” he said kindly.

“De, you have enough to figure out already, I can –”

Dean interrupted you by standing up and placing a hand on the back of your head, pulling you into a forehead kiss before cupping your face in his hands and looking into your eyes. “Let me,” he repeated, his tone gentle but stern. “You’re just as stressed over this as I am, and you made breakfast. I can clean,” he said with a reassuring smile, planting a quick kiss on your lips. You nodded as he released you from his grasp.

“Okay, if you say so… I’ll go shower then,” you sighed as you started walking towards your bedroom. You stopped to glance back at Dean when you heard the sink turn on; his back was turned to you as he started on the dishes and he was humming some song under his breath that you couldn’t quite make out from where you were standing. You thought about inviting him to shower with you, but decided against it as you hadn’t quite felt like you were ready yet. Plus, you did not want your first time with him to be in the shower, nor did you want it to be in the middle of this Nick-centered mess. No, you were going to have to wait a little longer. As much as it was absolutely killing you inside, it would be better for you in the long run if you did.

You stepped into the shower, letting the warm water run down your face. It had been a stressful month, to say the least, and all you wanted to do was to be able to fully settle into your newfound relationship without having to worry about your ex-boyfriend all the damn time. You turned around under the water and let it wet your hair as you squirted some shampoo into your hand. You lathered the soap into your scalp and rinsed your hair, followed by your conditioner, which you washed out quickly before turning off the water and hopping out of the tub. You grabbed two towels, wrapping your hair up with one and placing the other one around your body, tucking the corner of it under itself to make sure it was secure. Leaning over the bathroom counter to get a closer look at your face in the mirror that was hanging over the sink, you saw that you were starting to break out a little due to the stress of everything. You let out a frustrated sigh as you began your skin care routine, a knock at the bathroom door startling you.

“You decent?” Dean asked.

“Enough,” you replied with a chuckle, and he opened the door. 

He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind and pulling you back into him so you were flush with his chest. You were in the middle of putting face wash on your face, and you rolled your eyes as you continued to try and finish your morning routine. Dean rested his chin on your shoulder as he looked at you in the mirror. 

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” He said softly. 

“Dean, I have soap all over my face!” You exclaimed with a giggle.

“Doesn’t make you any less pretty.”

You smiled at his compliment and leaned forward over the sink, turning the water on as you washed the product off your skin. Dean’s hands had moved to your hips, and you noticed the compromising position that the two of you were in. You were bent over and he was right behind you; and you were starting to feel something hard press up against your ass. You quickly finished washing your face and stood up, looking over your shoulder at him. “Dean,” you warned.

“I know, I know, don’t worry. I’m just torturin’ myself in the meantime,” he chuckled.

“Feeling your dick pressed up against my ass is torture for me too, trust me,” you laughed, spinning around to face him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, hoping that the towel around your body would stay in place. “You have no idea how badly I want to,” you whined, angry at the trauma inside of you that wasn’t allowing you to rip this man’s clothes off right here in the bathroom. Dean let his forehead rest against yours.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m pretty sure I have an idea,” he said, nodding his head down towards the bulge in his sweatpants. You looked down briefly and suppressed a groan at the image you were seeing; God, the things you wanted to do to him. 

“Right, I’m just driving us both crazy then, huh?” You asked with a chuckle.

“’Fraid so… but I can wait. I’ll wait however long you need me to,” he smiled, planting a kiss on your nose.

“Oh, really? What if it’s like… twenty years?” You teased; an eyebrow cocked as if you were challenging him with the question.

Dean raised both of his eyebrows in surprise. “Twenty years, huh? I’m just flattered you still see us together that far into the future,” he teased back. You felt your cheeks grow red with embarrassment as you became aware of what you had just insinuated. Marriage, a life together, a long-lasting, serious, permanent, “I’ve-found-the-one” relationship. And you didn’t even have to think about if you wanted these things with Dean; you simply just knew that you did. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks in that moment; _he was it for you_. 

“I – uh – um,” you began to stutter, trying to find a way to backtrack on your words; the last thing you wanted to do was scare him away. Yes, you’ve told one another that you loved each other more times than you could count over the last month, but just because you love someone doesn’t necessarily mean that the thought of spending the rest of your life with them isn’t absolutely terrifying, and you weren’t sure how Dean felt about that idea.

Dean chuckled as you scrambled to find the words to explain yourself. “To answer your question,” he began, interrupting your floundering, “then I guess I would wait 20 years. Me and this guy, we’d be best buds,” he quipped holding up his right hand. You swatted his bicep playfully. 

“You’re disgusting,” you smiled.

“And yet, you want to spend the next 20 years together anyway,” he replied with a grin. 

“Yeah, and at 21 years that’s it. You’re outta here,” you retorted, giggling as he faked offense. As the cute moment and silly conversation came to an end, the both of you felt the looming uneasy-ness that was in the air. There was this constant, unspoken tension between the two of you since the lawsuit was placed in Dean’s hands. One way or another, it’d be over tomorrow, but you were really hoping that it wasn’t the way where you’d be down ten grand. 

“Hey,” Dean said softly, sensing the tension, “It’ll all be over tomorrow, right? And then we can enjoy our time together without having to constantly worry about it.”

You nodded, unconvinced by Dean’s reassurance. “Dean… I don’t think you understand how adamant I am about you not giving him a dime,” you sighed, leaning back against the bathroom counter and crossing your arms over your chest. 

“I understand sweetheart, but --”

“No. No “buts”. I’ll never forgive myself if you pay that money.”

“Y/N, you have nothing to forgive yourself for. You haven’t done anything wrong!”

“I know that! I just… that’s your money that you saved up for your whole life. I won’t let you give it all away, not to him.”

“Let’s just see what happens tomorrow, okay? But at the end of the day… it’s my money and I’ll choose how to spend it.”

“Dean, I am not worth ten grand!” You retorted, instantly regretting it as you saw the hurt on Dean’s face. He cupped your face firmly in his hands.

“You’re right. You’re fuckin’ priceless, okay? Stop talkin’ about yourself like that. I love you. You know how much I love you,” he said sternly. You nodded before he continued. “I’m not having this discussion again. You got nothin’ to be sorry for, I gotta face the consequences, it is what it is. Arguin’ about it isn’t going to do us any good, okay?”

“But –”

“Ah, ah. Okay?” Dean asked again. You let out a frustrated sigh.

“Fine,” you huffed, refusing to look him in the eye. Dean leaned in to kiss you on the nose. You wished he would listen to you. You wished he was as adamant about refusing to pay the money as you were. You wished he could understand the very real guilt that you’d feel if he had to end up paying it. You wished for a miracle, for Charlie to find something, _anything_ , on the venue’s server. You wished and wished and wished, because it was the only thing that you could really do.

_**The Next Day** _

The weird tension between you and Dean still hadn’t subsided, and Charlie still hadn’t found any video footage, though she assured both you and Dean this morning that she was working overtime on it. At this point, you hadn’t stopped hoping for a miracle, but it wasn’t looking likely. In a few hours, Dean would be out ten grand, it’d be more or less your fault, and you couldn’t do anything about it. Dean and Sam were meeting with Nick and his lawyer at 1:00, as Dean wanted to settle everything with as little fuss as possible. If he could meet with them, sign some legal papers, and be on his merry way, that’s what he was going to do. He wanted this behind him so he could fully enjoy his time with you. Or so he said. You, on the other hand, could not stop picturing Dean’s auto shop that he was never going to get to have because of you. It was killing you inside. It was Monday, so Dean had gone home last night per the rule you had set in place for yourself. You had taken the day off of work under the hopeful delusion that Charlie would find something last minute and you’d have to run up to the law office where the meeting was occurring and save the day, just like in the movies. You knew it sounded ridiculous, but you couldn’t let yourself fully accept what was about to happen. Not yet, anyway. You checked your phone to see if you had received any texts from Dean, who told you he’d text you when he had Sam in his car and was on the way to meet with, in his own words, “that grade-A fuckhead”. The meeting started in an hour and you still hadn’t heard anything from Dean, so you decided to give him a call.

**DEAN’S POV**

“Hey, baby,” Dean answered in a hurried tone, placing his phone against his ear and holding it in place with his shoulder as he continued to button up his dress shirt.

“Hey, just checking in. Haven’t heard from you and was getting worried that you might’ve overslept,” Y/N replied. Dean chuckled at how well she knew him.

“I did oversleep actually, woke up about 30 minutes ago to like, ten missed calls from Sam, and then I had to get up and get ready and it’s been a blur. Sam’s actually gonna meet me there. You see those texts from Charlie?” Dean asked, as he finished buttoning up his shirt and placed Y/N on speaker, setting his phone down on the bed before shrugging on his suit jacket. 

“Yeah. You never know, she could find something!” Y/N said, trying to sound optimistic; Dean knew how low the chances were of _that_ happening, and judging by Y/N’s tone, so did she. 

“Yeah, we can hope,” Dean sighed. “Alright, well, I’m actually gonna get goin’, it’s a 20 minute drive and I wanna get there a little early, plus I don’t know what traffic is going to look like. I love you, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I love you, too,” Y/N replied with a sigh. Dean knew how much it was hurting her that he was about to give up his life’s savings. He knew that she’d only blame herself, as much as he told her not to.

“And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re gonna be okay, you know that right?” Dean asked. He heard her take a deep breath on the other end of the phone.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” she said, her voice entirely unconvincing, but Dean didn’t have time to argue with her now.

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Good luck. Charlie has me on speed dial in case I have to run up there and save the day,” she joked. Dean smiled.

“Well, hopefully I’ll see you soon, then.”

**Y/N’S POV**

You kept checking your phone every two minutes as if Charlie’s name was just going to appear on your lockscreen with some good news because you were willing it to. It was 1:03 now, and your heart was in your throat knowing that at this moment Dean was probably sitting across from the man who had taken almost everything from you. You tried to distract yourself with an episode of Friends, but it was like a compulsion, the way you were checking your phone. Could anyone blame you, really? You checked once again that your ringer was on, the Do Not Disturb was off, and that your volume was all the way up. You weren’t going to be missing any calls today, that was for sure. You put your phone down beside you, trying one more time to pay attention to your comfort show, before you nearly jumped off the couch from how badly your ringtone had startled you. As you looked down, you saw the name of the one person who’d be able to put your endless thinking about this case to a stop: Charlie. With a shaky hand, you quickly picked up your phone and answered it.

“Please, please, please, tell me you found something,” you begged.

“Okay, I found something,” Charlie replied, a smile in her voice. You felt as though your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

“Are you serious!?”

“Yeah. Takes a while to recover deleted files, but I just had re-install the –”

“Charlie, don’t take this the wrong way because you are literally my favorite person on this planet right now, but _how_ you got whatever it is you found doesn’t help me. What did you find?”

“Right, um, well… it’s a clear as day video of Nick pulling you into the bathroom, and quite violently, too. I have a few other clips where you can clearly tell that he’s drunk, as well. Only downside is… they’re too big to send. I have them on a USB but converting them to a file that would be able to play on a phone would take a little extra time that we don’t have. I’m at the dealership, if you think you have time to swing by –”

“I’m already on my way,” you said, slipping on your shoes, thankful that you had already been dressed in case you did have to run out the door on a moment’s notice. You checked your watch; it was 1:12. The dealership was about five minutes to the east of you, the law office about ten minutes to the west. You could make it if you went a few miles over the speed limit. “I’ll be there in three, Charlie,” you said as you ran out your door, getting to your car in record time.

“Alright, I’ll be outside and just hand it to you when you pull up to save you some time,” she replied.

“Ugh, you’re a fucking lifesaver! Charlie, anything you want, you got it. Just ask,” you said, pulling out of your driveway. 

“Just happy to help. See you soon!”

You pulled up to the front of the dealership, the redhead spotting you immediately. She jogged up to your window as you rolled it down and handed you the USB. 

“Anyone there have a laptop on them?” She asked, and your heart dropped as you realized that you didn’t know the answer to that, but you knew that yours was at home.

“Fuck, it’s a law office, I’m sure there’s one somewhere,” you replied. Charlie then handed you a black computer bag that you had just noticed her carrying. 

“There’s one in there, just in case,” she said.

“Oh my God, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you repeated. You could honestly kiss her right now. “Did you text Dean about this?” You asked, curious if he knew and if there was a chance that he could be stalling the meeting a little bit. 

“Yeah, and Sam too, but they probably have their phones on silent. You need to go!” She said, shooing you out of the dealership’s driveway.

“You’re right, okay, I’m going,” you replied, thanking her one last time before stepping on your gas pedal and speeding away from her.

It was 1:30 when you pulled into a parking spot at the law office. You turned off your engine, grabbed Charlie’s bag, and double checked to make sure that you were still holding on to the flashdrive that she had given you. After slamming your car door, you practically sprinted inside, being met with a secretary at the front desk. 

“There’s a meeting going on here right now. Clients are Winchester and Bennett. I have, uh, case files,” you said, glancing down at the computer bag hanging at your hip. The secretary looked at you suspiciously before she rolled her eyes in an exasperated fashion and pointed to the hallway behind her. 

“Conference room down the hall,” she said, her voice high pitched and nasally, before going back to whatever it was she was doing on her computer.

“Thanks,” you replied, before speed-walking down the hallway. You reached the conference room and didn’t even hesitate before opening it. All the usual fears that swallowed you whole whenever you thought about coming face-to-face with Nick were being overtaken by some kind of adrenaline rush. In fact, all you felt like doing right now was giving him a piece of your mind and putting him behind you, _forever_. You burst into the room to see Dean, Sam, Nick, and a man who you assumed was Nick’s lawyer sitting at a small, 8-person conference table. Dean was being handed a pen, and looked as though he was about to sign some papers before you came through the door, slightly out of breath. 

“Y/N?” Dean asked, confused as to what the hell you were doing there.

“Dean, do not fucking sign those,” you replied, pointing to the papers in front of him. 

“Y/N, seriously? This is a bit ridiculous. There’s no way out of –”

“Why do you think I’m here?” You snapped, cutting Dean off. You looked across the table to Nick, who had a cocky smirk plastered on his face. You glared at him as you set the computer bag down on the table and unzipped it, pulling out Charlie’s laptop.

“Nick, who is this?” His lawyer asked, irritation written all over his face.

“This is my ex who I was allegedly “assaulting” before I got my nose broken,” Nick replied, rolling his eyes. You glanced over at Dean who looked as though he was about to break Nick’s nose again. Sam had his hand on his brother’s chest, as if he was having to hold him back from crawling over the table and doing just that. 

“Ma’am, this is extremely unprofessional, and this case doesn’t involve you,” the lawyer remarked as you opened Charlie’s laptop and inserted the flashdrive. 

You crossed your arms over your chest as you waited for the computer to acknowledge the USB and scowled at the man. “Actually, _sir_ , this case has everything to do with me. The only reason this case is occurring is because I decided to date this piece of shit in college, and he decided to get real fuckin’ grabby at my brother’s wedding.”

“Well, yes, that’s what Mr. Winchester here is claiming, but, there’s no proof, so –”

“Well, that’s where you’d be wrong,” you smiled sarcastically, as the video loaded and you pressed play, turning the laptop around to face the four men sitting at the table. You stepped to the side so you could watch, too. The first clip was Nick at the bar doing shot after shot. The second clip was him, clearly drunk, standing in the corner of the dance floor and shrugging off his date before stumbling outside a few moments after you had left the vicinity. You glanced over at Nick who was turning paler by the minute as the footage kept rolling. The next clip made you slightly nauseous, as it showed you walking into the bathroom, and then it showed Nick appearing shortly after, standing outside the door, just waiting for you to come out. The rest of the night, from Nick pulling you into the bathroom, to Dean storming in, to the paramedics entering the building was all there, being played for everyone to see. Nick was watching in disbelief, the cocky smirk from earlier wiped right off his face. His lawyer was clearly infuriated. Either he thought Nick was telling the truth, or he knew he was lying and thought he’d win this case based on the fact that there was no evidence to back up Dean’s claims. As the video ended, you shut the laptop and stood there, your eyes boring into your ex-boyfriend’s, who couldn’t bring himself to look at you. 

“Nick, what the hell was that?” His lawyer hissed through gritted teeth.

“I,” Nick gulped, “I don’t –”

“You told me there was no evidence! I told you there’s no way you’d win this if there was evidence!”

You scoffed loudly, causing the duo to look up at you. Of course the piece of shit would also hire a piece of shit lawyer. That tracks.

“Y/N, I –,” Nick began, but you cut him off as you took a few steps toward him.

“First of all, you don’t get to say my name anymore – ever,” you began, a sudden rage taking over you as you heard your name fall from his lips. You were about a foot away, towering over him as he sat in his chair, looking up at you with defeated eyes. “You listen to me, you fucking worthless piece of shit,” you began, stopping when Nick broke eye contact to look at the floor. “LOOK AT ME!” You yelled, causing everyone in the room to jump a little. “Fucking look at me, you coward,” you repeated through gritted teeth. Nick slowly brought his eyes up to meet yours. “You don’t have any fucking power over me anymore, you understand me? I used to think you ruined me. I’d lie awake at night thinking about how you hurt me and about all the ways I deserved it. _You_ did that to me. You made me fucking _hate_ myself. I couldn’t trust anyone because of you. You made it near impossible for me to think I deserved love,” you paused as Nick looked away again. Something told you that it was becoming hard for him to look at you as you continued to relinquish the hold that he had had on you for the last few years. “I SAID LOOK AT ME GOD DAMMIT!” You yelled. You wanted to watch the guilt flood his eyes. You wanted to see him realize and accept that he had actually lost. “Look at me, Nick,” you spat, and he looked up at you again at the sound of his name, “and don’t fucking look away from me again. I want to see it in your fucking eyes, I want to see your narcissistic ass realize that you are fucking nothing to me anymore. I don’t think about you anymore, you hear me? And you know what else? I can even love again. I can love someone who’s not you,” you smiled pitilessly as you saw Nick flinch at your words ever so slightly. “I thought you had taken that from me, I thought I was never going to feel it again because _you_ ruined it for me. But you didn’t. You may have planted seeds of self-hate in my mind, and you may have watered them until they grew into weeds that infested every part of me,” you continued, “but I have someone who’s helping me cut them down and planting flowers in their place. And you can’t take that from me. You don’t have the power to take that from me. You are fucking pathetic. I would tell you to get help, to have a nice life, but honestly? I don’t give a fuck what you do anymore. You are _nothing_ to me,” you finished. You felt as though a weight had been lifted not only off your shoulders, but off your entire body. You felt a sense of freedom wash over you. You scowled down at the man sitting in front of you, and you realized that you had meant what you said. You didn’t feel nauseous, you didn’t feel hate, you felt… you felt nothing. You felt as though the person sitting in front of you was a stranger, and it was the most free that you had felt in a long, long time. “Now, I think we’re done here,” you added, grabbing the papers off the table and ripping them to shreds, “and unless you want the entire fucking city to know what an absolute dickbag you are, Nick, I suggest you don’t contact me, or Dean, or _anyone_ I know _ever_ again.” 

You packed up the computer as the four men watched you, slack-jawed and stunned into silence, and turned on your heels, making your way out of the room. You stopped underneath the doorway for a brief moment to breathe a sigh of relief, before you continued walking, not bothering to look behind you. You felt like a new woman. The old Y/N, the one who was held down by her past, she was gone. It felt like you could finally breathe air again after spending years underwater. You were free again. You were you again. You were happy again. 


End file.
